Nanowrimo 2014 Hunger Games SYOT
by oddtom
Summary: I've decided to try out a Hunger Games SYOT for Nanowrimo. Read the first chapter for more details.
1. Character List

***UPDATE* SYOT NOW CLOSED**

Greetings fellow Hunger Games fans! National Novel Writing Month is almost upon us and I plan on participating this year. I have never written a novel before (or finished anyway), but this year, I'm feeling good about it! That being said, I'm regrettably lazy and I could use as much motivation as possible and I think having a bunch of people poking and prodding me for updates is just the thing.

Therefore…drumroll please… I have decided to start an SYOT! I know, very unoriginal thought, but I think it will be fun for everyone involved. I have a few character ideas already, but I have limited creativity and anyway, it's more fun if others are involved. There's a character form on my profile page (should be copy and pasteable- let me know if it's not). Fill out as much as you want- even if it's only the name- but the more characteristics you add, the more likely I am to use your character. Interesting tributes will get priority. Plus, the less I have to add in the details, the more personalized your character will be. Also, feel free to give your characters flaws, such as gimpy leg or asthmatic- most of em are gonna die anyway. O_O

I would rather you PM me the tribute form so I can keep the characters somewhat of a secret until they are unveiled in whatever way I choose over the course of the story. I'll update this page every day until then so you can see which tributes are taken and which are free. (Names only, I don't want to give anything away that I don't have to beforehand.) I already have an arena chosen and mapped out and I think everyone will like it. I'm not going to release an example introduction or anything like that (no peeking!), but I have a couple of stories already submitted to Fanfiction if you want to check out my writing style before you decide to submit.

I will accept submissions up until October 29, at which point I will need a few days to collect my notes, meditate, and worry my butt off about whether or not I can keep my promise to you guys. But I'll start releasing stories on Nov 1 and, if all goes well, will update every day throughout the month. (Though I may have to skip a day or two if something real-world comes up- life is unpredictable like that)

***UPDATE*  
><strong>

Thank you all for submitting tributes! I'll do my best to represent them as well as I can given the limitations that stories like this have. I have a general story outline going, and I'm finding that the tributes are writing their own stories within it, which is an interesting phenomenon. As for the story itself, after some deliberation and experimentation, I have decided that I am going to make it an omnipotent third-person so I don't show favor to any one tribute (or give hints about who will survive and who will not)

Again, thanks to everyone who submitted a tribute and updates will start on November 1! I'll see you then!

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><p><strong>D1 - Luxury Items<strong>

Male - Flash Adams

Female - Chayonna Davis

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><p><strong>D2 - Masonry<strong>

Male - Konstance Lowe

Female - Amagi Blade

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><p><strong>D3 - Electronics<strong>

Male - Mikey Donovan

Female - Lisa Stillwater

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><p><strong>D4 - Fishing<strong>

Male - Tomas Waters

Female - Cassida Callero

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><p><strong>D5 - Power &amp; Electricity<strong>

Male - Berton Wells

Female - Joule Tribble

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><p><strong>D6 - Transportation<strong>

Male - Kennedy Orloft

Female - Stella Pullman

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><p><strong>D7 - Lumber<strong>

Male - Napoleon Vandergaard

Female - Violet Aster

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><p><strong>D8 - Textiles<strong>

Male - Jonah Abagnale

Female - Emma Frisia

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><p><strong>D9 - Grain<strong>

Male - Percy Chametz

Female - Winnie Wright

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><p><strong>D10 - Livestock<strong>

Male - Angus Buckingham

Female - Lindsey Young

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><p><strong>D11 - Agriculture<strong>

Male - Jerome Acres

Female - Samantha Rice

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><p><strong>D12 - Mining<strong>

Male - Winston Fellows

Female - Courtney McCarthy


	2. Prologue

Ok, so I guess it's that time already. Well actually, it's early, but I'm not one for waiting until the very last minute 11:59pm before turning things in. Also, I'm thinking that this might take a tad over thirty days. But it might be under thirty days too. Or it might be exactly thirty days. So there's a completely worthless observation for you. Anyway, I've spent the past couple of days reading through a bunch of other "Submit Your Own Tribute" stories on here to see how others have done this and was shocked by how many were unfinished or just plain confusing. It turns out that apparently people aren't actually very good at this, which surprises me. I suppose it shouldn't, though; it was and will be difficult for me as well. One thing I have decided not to do is the repetitive "the reaping in district one was…", "the reaping in district two was…", "the reaping in district three was…", etc. because that gets boring fast and I am better than that. Though, I also don't think it's necessary to start out in medias res, for that would kind of flow against my storytelling style- you'll see what I mean soon enough.

However, I want to apologize for one thing in advance. I have tried really hard not to make the character introductions monotonous and boring, but introductions are nonetheless necessary. I've made each one different, blending them in to the plotline as best as I could, some a little better than others, though it will inevitably start to sound like I'm explaining everything. As I introduce the characters, I'm going to simultaneously move the plot line forward, so it doesn't seem like we're stuck in a rut. Yes, it's going to seem like a lot of explaining at first, but it will only last through the beginning chapters. If you can bear with me through that, then I can focus more on the plot and less on making sure you know who is who. Trust me, it's better this way in the long run.

That out of the way, let's get this show on the road. I've got the basic story premise worked out and several plot points that I definitely want to happen, though I may change a few details as the story begins to unfold. You guys have given me such a quirky bunch of characters; I can't wait to throw them all together, mix them up, then watch them bubble up and fizz out of control like a shaken up soda can. I kind of feel bad that I'm going to have to kill off these characters, but that's my job, I guess. It is quite literally what you signed up for.

Also, I think I'm also going to add a comments section on this page for each day's chapter, so check this page for updates as well when each story comes out. A warning, though: it'll probably contain spoilers about the day's chapter, so make sure to check here only after you've read it.

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><p><strong>1 - <strong>Alright, so kicking it off with District 11, which pretty much never happens, but maybe that's why I'm doing it. Ok, so funny story here. Pines was originally supposed to be Jerome's older brother, but somewhere between trying to learn everything about 24 different people, I messed it up. I misread the description "he is three years older" to mean that Jerome was three years older, instead of Pines was three years older, which it was originally intended to be. I found it somewhere between triple-checking and quadruple-checking my notes, but by that time, I already had a couple of important plot points that counted on Pines being Jerome's kid brother. Plus it was a lot cuter this way. Gaptasticventure didn't seem to mind this turn of events, so we kept it. Something else this did that I didn't expect was that my sister, who has agreed to proofread these things before I send them in (so basically it's her fault if there's a typo), was thoroughly convinced that Pines was the one that was going to get reaped. I've already posted the tribute list, so I don't mind letting that little baby spoiler go, but it was an interesting side effect.

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><p><strong>2 - <strong>This was originally supposed to be a single chapter, but I couldn't remove any more without taking away from the story. So you're just going to have to wait until tomorrow to see how this plays out. Brownie points to anyone who recognizes the train number reference.

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><p><strong>3 -<strong> And here's the end of Stella's introduction. I get the feeling that all of you sort of like this whole Stella-Rachel thing going on, so this must be kind of a shock. I kind of feel bad for doing that to you, but I also don't really feel responsible because it's the story, not me. I'm just the messenger. Send your complaints to president Snow.

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><p><strong>4 -<strong> Nailed it! So I was experimenting with semicolons; did you notice? Hopefully not; that's the idea. Anyway, I rewrote this thing approximately ten thousand times trying to make that feeling at the end perfect. If this weren't a Hunger Games story, this chapter might have been uplifting, but, of course, it's not. As it is, I wanted to string you along full of hope with the last paragraphs, then suddenly punch you in the gut with the final sentence, ending with a literal "punchline". Kind of like how it would actually feel if you were in the reaping crowd all hopeful that your chances are small until you hear your name called. Can you say "symbolism"? Not very happy, I know, but it turns out that Panem is actually a pretty sucky place to live. Don't worry, though, the next chapter will be a little more humorous, but it will still be heavily laden with dark undertones. But hey, that's how it goes; this is the Hunger Games, not Narnia

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><p><strong>5 -<strong> Godwin's Law! Yea, just kidding. Hmm… liquor again- is this becoming a new theme? So I was thinking about what I was going to do with this when I read through the comment above and I thought I'd enjoy poking fun at Narnia. I was going to reference the actual CS Lewis books, but I found out pretty quickly that I had forgotten all but the main plot points, having read the thing in middle school (also never saw any of the movies). So instead, I just made one of those knock-off Walmart brand Narnia books that turns out to be much better for this purpose.

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><p><strong>6 - <strong>This one is for LadyLucyfer (though she didn't create either character), who claimed that this type of SYOT story was always boring. To that, I say: Challenge Accepted. So the point here (aside from Challenge Acceptance) is to put an inner-district reaping in direct contrast with an out-district reaping. It's all about perspective. Also, I try not to be biased in my story-telling, but on a personal note, I think that Joule is my favorite character. She cannot win for at least two reasons, only one of which her creator knows, but I think she will be a fun character to follow. Her preferred weapon alone will blow your mind (No, she's not secretly a cyborg with laserbeam eyes and flamethrowers for hands, but I appreciate your creative enthusiasm). Okay, that is all- you will find out more when the time comes.

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><p><strong>7 - <strong>Hey, so Frank.2.0 drew up a sketch of Konstance! Check it out here: **tinyurl dot com slash pqp67ej**

Another one that was really tough to write. I'm not very good with people talking to each other, well relatively not good, but that's pretty much all this one is. Honestly, though, there's really no other way I could have introduced Konstance. The desperation of just having been reaped and the unfairness of it all just resonates so well with his character, which almost personifies the reaping. So hopefully your respective serotonin levels are returning to normal and you're all forgiving me for the feels. Maybe I should look in to writing happy stories after this, but, no- I'm just not as familiar with the happy feelings as I am with these.

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><p><strong>8 - <strong>No, I don't know where Mr. Donovan got the chairs. Maybe he's secretly a wizard? I was imagining a school play or something, where everyone sits in foldable lawn chairs. I also didn't go as much into Amagi's character here as I have with others because she's supposed to be mysterious, not just to us, but to the other tributes as well. We'll learn about her as the other career tributes do, so stay tuned. And finally! I've been so excited all week to throw these characters together and let the fireworks fly! It's delicious, but the recipe isn't quite complete- tomorrow, we'll stir in a little Cassida and see what happens.

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><p><strong>9 -<strong> Finally getting out of the introductions and into some actual story. With all these tributes and backgrounds to follow, my notebook's starting to look like John Nash's wall in A Beautiful Mind or Sherlock's wall in A Game of Shadows. I'm going to put off some of the other character introductions until we get a few more chapters into the training sessions, so don't think I've forgotten about you- Just think of it as taking a few personal days for writing stories with the chars we know and love, then I'll get to the rest of them. It's all good.

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><p><strong>10 -<strong> Hey, double digits! Sorry District 12, but I couldn't pass up this opportunity, it was too much fun. The best thing is that you can't even say that their costume is implausible, because it's totally canon (thanks, Katniss). So here you get a taste of all the tributes at once. It's a shallow look, but you get to see them all; at least the ones you haven't seen before. Also, about the "violet tree": most plants in Violaceae are herbaceous; the most you'll get is a shrub or bush. There are some plants called "violet trees", but they're not even Malphigiales. I think the African violet tree is in the bean family. Saying "violet tree" would be like saying "human-sized beetle"- it's just biologically implausible. Ok, sorry for the botany lesson, but plants are my thing (and often obnoxiously overlooked or simplified).

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><p><strong>11 - <strong>Welcome to the training center! No new characters today, just ones that I we know and love interacting with each other. I didn't do much with the careers, so I'll get to them tomorrow. Also, I think this one topped 2000 words, though I was aiming for 1500. This may or may not become a habit. I'm not sure yet.

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><p><strong>12 - <strong>I feel like at one point or another, everyone has felt the way that Stella did in that moment, but to what end? It's always so much worse in our heads than it is in reality. So today's is a little late, relatively speaking. I'm starting to feel like I'm grinding; it's getting harder to keep this pace up, though I'll do the best I can with it. I'd rather take a day to make sure a chapter is what I want it to be than submit garbage just to keep the pace up. Hopefully, it won't come to that, though.

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><p><strong>13 - <strong>I think I'm about where I want to be at 1/3 of the way through. To be clear, the pairings are kind of a writing device I've decided to use as a temporary solution. It makes the flow less choppy if I can wrangle in multiple tributes into one section of writing, though it kind of takes some of the magic out of it if you know the true (somewhat meta) reason these peeps are getting together. Though to be honest, it's what I can see happening with the descriptions I've been given. If you mentioned that you wanted you tribute to have no allies, don't worry, the arena will make it happen one way or the other.

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><p><strong>14 - <strong>What kind of trouble is Stella going to cause this time? And what will it mean for her friends? (Stoulley? Joukella?) Actually, I'm not entirely sure that Stella knows what the word "friend" means. Maybe Chayonna can loan her the Annals of Loria, so the great tiger can teach her the importance of true friendship.

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><p><strong>15 - <strong>Surprise! You get two updates today! No real reason, I just felt like writing today. Also, if you think that I'm spending too much time on one tribute or you want to explore a particular character, let me know and I'll work with you.

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><p><strong>16 - <strong>Suffice it to say that there are some things about Mikey that you don't quite know yet. Something that, say, allows him to get a surprise shot off on Flash, for instance.

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><p><strong>17 -<strong> Well done to stellaslomp for figuring out one of Mikey's secrets (though admittedly she did cheat to do so, so I'll give you half points), but well done anyway. I'll give a dollar (or a pound *cough* Ladylucyfer *cough*) to anyone else who can figure out what's going on, with the arena, with characters, or with any of the first few stories, before it is explained. You'll figure it all out by the end, but I'm just curious to see if anyone can put the pieces together before I want you to.

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><p><strong>18 - <strong>This one is tailored to respond to each of the PMs that I received regarding your various interesting predictions, especially those regarding the arena. Though I'm with Mikey on that whole "I can't believe this is really happening" mentality. Can you believe that by this time next week, many of these characters will cease to exist? Think about it... Okay, stop thinking about it. Why are you still thinking about it?

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><p><strong>20 - <strong>Enter Augustus Piper and a cameo by Seneca Crane! Arenas always reflect their head gamemakers, so make of that what you will. The interviews will go much more in depth with the characters, but I really wanted to get a gamemaker's point of view. (Also now it's them not showing favoritism, not me). Again, not one you read about very often, but if I write a story after this one, it will be from a gamemaker's perspective. The viewpoint was a personal challenge more than anything else, but it seems to work great for this chapter, so that's a nice plus.

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><p><strong>21 - <strong>I kind of fudged a little bit with Amagi's stats. Just don't do the math on her family; it gets kind of screwy. Also, Flash's interview went something like this:

C: How do you feel today?

F: I'm ready and strong!

C: Tell me about your family

F: My family thinks I'm ready and strong!

C: So what are some of your hobbies?

F: Lifting strong weights and getting ready!

C: So what's your plan for the arena?

F: I'm going to be strong and ready!

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><p><strong>22<strong> - I've been kind of pulling my hair out trying to come up with a way to get through this that isn't monotonous and boring. How do I show 24 interviews without either looking like I'm showing favoritism or spending a week and a half doing the same thing? I was hoping to get into the arena around the time that the movie came out, but now I don't know how I'm going to do it. I don't want to be stuck choosing the lesser of two evils, but what other choice is there?

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><p><strong>23 - <strong>Hey, Happy Hunger Games! The movie came out a day early! Also, I've got a surprise planned for later, so stay tuned!

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><p><strong>N - <strong>Oops, I guess I accidentally wrote the wrong chapter- either that or I suck at segues. As Chayonna and Konstance are discovering, it is only in our most desperate hour that we find out who we truly are.

Maybe I'll fill in the other interviews later, but I just felt like writing about the arena now. So here you go.

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><p><strong>N+1 - <strong>Today, you all get to feel what it's like to be a mentor; you must sit and watch and can do nothing but hope as your tribute fights for his or her life. Though I kind of feel bad for anyone placed anywhere near Amagi. Ah, and Cassida finally shows her true colors, and it turns out to be somewhat of a Jackson Pollock painting. On the other hand, Mikey's worst fear has come true- maybe he was better off dying. Who survived, do you ask? Don't worry- you'll find out soon enough who survived and who didn't. That's all part of the fun.

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><p><strong>N+2 - <strong>I totally rolled a couple of d20s to decide this one. Though not formal, I believe that Stella has had enough practice with knives to at least keep up with Flash's sword, but only when he's off his guard. For now, anyway.

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><p><strong>N+3 - <strong>I wish I could track everyone, but there's just not enough room on a page for it. As far as electric fences go, 10,000 volts is a freakishly high number. I know this and Joule knows this.

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><p><strong>N+5 - <strong>This is by far the longest submission yet. Also, officially won Nanowrimo yesterday, so there's that.

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><p><strong>N+6 - <strong>Shout out to Dennis Nedry here. I'm pretty sure this is how he went too.

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><p><strong>N+8 -<strong> Hey, Jerome's back! I know it's not obvious, which is why I'm pointing it out, but the first sentence here is a shout-out to Fernwithy's "The Last Tribute", which starts with Haymitch buried in angora sweaters. It's the 74th games from Haymitch's point of view and it is amazing.

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><p><strong>N+9 - <strong>Well this one's absolutely Cass-tastic. I think I'm going to make that a new word. And Jonah, that creepy stalker..

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><p><strong>N+10 - <strong>Any guesses on the new critter? Or what destroyed their camp? I suppose I should warn you that I won't be revisiting them tomorrow. You'll just have to wait until Tuesday to see how this plays out.

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><p><strong>N+11 - <strong>That last sentence comes straight from Ian Malcolm during his rant to Hammond about how deluded humans are regarding the amount of control we think we have over anything. "Details emerge more clearly as the fractal curve is redrawn" -third iteration

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><p><strong>N+12 - <strong>Yay! Dinosaurs! If you haven't guessed Jurassic Park by now, I guess I'm going to just have to bring some Velociraptors in. Actually, I think I might do that anyway.

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><p><strong>N+13 - <strong>I'm not sure why Joule didn't say anything. Maybe she thought Jonah would keep to himself like he had been during the training sessions. Maybe she didn't want them to panic. Maybe she thought Jonah had as much right to live as they did. Probably a little bit of all three.

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><p><strong>N+14 - <strong>I'd like to think that because Chayonna spent most of her life in the fantasy world of her books, her mind was completely okay with deciding that the fantasy world was preferable to the real one. I've never actually seen anyone do this, but I've read some Vietnam War stories where this happens.

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><p><strong>N+15 - <strong>Tomorrow will be the last day of the games. I've got so many plot lines going here that I'm not sure which one to write about next. Once I finish off the day's events, any requests on who you want to hear about first?

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><p><strong>N+19 - <strong>And now things start to get interesting. For those of you who thought Mikey and Stella were protected, do you still feel that way? This is looking to be a fun day for Cassida fans.

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><p><strong>N+20 - <strong>I think Berton would have done a lot better off if he had just told Konstance the truth. I mean, what was he going to do? He was tied to a tree.

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><p><strong>N+21 - <strong>Oh Pines, who will be able to find your super secret hiding spot now? Don't worry, Jerome will keep your hiding spot a secret.

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><p><strong>N+22 - <strong>Sorry for the late post; today was kind of busy. Didn't we just have someone die last chapter? At this rate, we'll be done by the end of the week! At least Jerome's was a somewhat clean death; I kind of feel bad for what Mikey had to go through. Still, it looks like we're getting pretty close to the end here; it's kind of exciting. I'll see you tomorrow!

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><p><strong>N+23 - <strong>Should I make a joke here about "lending a hand" or is that a little too much?

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><p><strong>N+25 - <strong>Well Stella and Amagi are in trouble, but maybe now Konstance will get his answers? Bad luck for Berton if he does, though.

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><p><strong>N+27 - <strong>I think it's hilarious that Berton has to use his hands to count to four.


	3. Chapter 1

The sun was beating down on the open fields of District 11, where not a single cloud was obstructing its intense radiance. Though it was only ten in the morning by Jerome's estimate, it was already warm enough that he was starting to sweat. The brisk wind that was whipping across the barren landscape gave the towering muscular 18 year old limited comfort from the rising temperatures. It was a dry, arid gust that seemed to pull the water right out of his throat with every breath.

Clearing out the unworked fields was hard and monotonous labor. It consisted of combing the undeveloped lands for unwanted weeds, stones, or heavy roots and otherwise making them suitable for farming during the next year. It was a job that most people detested and avoided like a tracker jacker nest, but Jerome loved it. The repetitive chore required little to no thought. It allowed him to put his body on autopilot and get lost in thoughts. Some days, he would be in this dream world of his mind for so long that he would look up, only to find himself alone in the field, the work day having been called off some indeterminate amount of time before.

District 11 had undergone an abnormally large growth spurt over the last few years, and the city's population was larger than Jerome had ever before seen it. Today, he had been stationed far beyond the orchards and farmlands, which were now dotted with green sprigs of this year's crops. With the recent expansion done to keep up with the population growth, he had been assigned to an area so close to the perimeter that he could actually see the massive electric fences that enclosed the district in the distance.

There was a time when Jerome relished being a part of the more social groups, chatting away as they slashed their way through the wheat fields, but since his mother's untimely death, he really preferred the solitude that this job provided. On days like today, he could spend hours at a time within the world of his own mind. At least, he would have if his little brother hadn't been barraging him with a constant flow of inane questions all morning, each one forcibly dragging Jerome out of his precious thoughts.

Pines had just turned of age to work the fields this year, and had been exceedingly thrilled for the chance to work alongside his brother. Because of the general lack of demand to be given this position, it wasn't particularly hard to grant the kid his wish. Now, the two were working in adjacent rows, making slow progress along the barren plain that stretched off seemingly infinitely into the distance.

Pines had always looked up to his brother and wanted more than anything to become as awesome and perfect as the man he saw his brother to be. Not long ago, he had spent a full hour hacking at and digging out a giant rock that, when he finally unearthed it, turned out to be larger than his head. Pines had not allowed Jerome to help him with this task, even when his older brother had insisted, and, when he finally wrenched the colossal thing from the ground, had been extremely proud of his accomplishment. He had held the stone up as if it were a prize fish that had won best in tournament and Jerome couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm.

The work had tired him out, though, and Pines had been mostly silent for the past hour, which Jerome was enormously thankful for. But now, he broke the silence with another of his many questions, once again, dragging Jerome from the comfort of his own thoughts.

"Hey Jer", Pines started, "What's beyond the fence?" His voice trailed as he turned his head toward the great fixture. Jerome spun around to see his little brother leaning on the handle of his hand tool, gripping it with both hands. His chin was resting on the sanded tip of the wooden handle as he stared off at the electric fence in the distance.

Jerome sighed as he responded with a heavy out-district slang. "You best not be worryin' 'bout things like that, now. Thoughts like that can getcha into some serious trouble." He looked back down at his own work and continued, "... and don't let 'em see ya takin' a break 'fore it's time. If yer old 'nough to work the fields, yer old 'nough to get whipped. That's their motto."

He looked down at his little brother and smiled gently, "If'n you wanna be out here workin' with us, you gotta be able to actually do the work." He winked at his little brother and lightly kicked the hand tool Pines had been resting his chin on.

The boy jumped with surprise, as if just then realizing that he was leaning on his tool instead of using it, and hastened his pace to catch up to his older brother. Pines wanted anything but to let Jerome down.

Pines had almost caught up to his brother, when his pick hit an inordinately stubborn obstacle. Determined not to be slowed down again, he continued to swing his tool, hacking at it incessantly, but it refused to either budge or give in any visible way. He eventually gave up and looked up to see his older brother looking fondly down at him. Panting, Pines was visibly tired, so Jerome stepped over, gently pushed his little brother to the side, and took a turn at it.

Jerome took the hand tool and swung it in a large arc over his shoulder, then down into the stubborn rock. The tool hit with a loud clanging sound and the ensuing vibrations carried up the tool and into Jerome's arms, causing him to lose his grip as it clattered to the ground. Jerome had spent the last five years plowing fields, and he knew right away that this was no rock.

He shook his hands to get the cramps caused by the jarring impact out of them, then leaned down to inspect the strange object. To his surprise, he found a dull, metallic surface.

Before the catastrophes that wiped away the former country that stood here, these areas were covered with suburban homes. People who commuted in and out of the city lived in houses erected over the very grounds they were now using as farmland. Not much was known about those times or of the city that once stood here, which, Jerome heard, had been called "Atlanta". Occasionally, people of District 11, especially the tillers and plowers, would stumble across artifacts from before the catastrophes, but it was usually a useless piece of junk. Jerome himself had found a plastic bottle the previous year, but finding anything metallic was rare and finding metal that had not been devoured by rust or corroded away in some fashion was almost unheard of.

This piece of metal, though old and worn, seemed relatively newer than the rusted junk usually unearthed. Jerome softly swept away loose dirt and pebbles from the edge exposed to the surface. Dust whipped up and around them as a gust of wind lazily drifted across the field.

Jerome leaned down and placed his ear on one end of the piece of metal, then rapped solidly twice on the other end. Then he grunted in satisfaction and looked up at an expectant Pines, who was barely containing his excitement, nearly jumping up and down with anticipation. Jerome looked his little brother in the eyes, suddenly somber and serious, and demanded, "You go run and find pa. You tell him we found 'nother one. Tell 'im this one's a biggun."

"Another what, Jer?" Pines' eyes were wide with wonder. "Did I dig up buried treasure? Like the pirates in those stories?"

Jerome chuckled and shook his head. Pines had been given some of Jerome's old Captain Cook novels when he had come of age and, despite Jerome's insistence to the contrary, was unwaveringly convinced that Captain Cook was more than just a fictional hero of folk tales.

Jerome patted the boy on the back. "Naw, nothin' like that. Don't you be worryin' about what it is now, ya hear me? Just go run and get pa like you were told. Now go!"

Pines nodded vigorously and dashed off toward an old colonial style farmhouse in the distance. Jerome watched as his little brother sprinted across the freshly upturned rows of dirt, becoming fuzzier through the currents of dust migrating across the fields.

Samantha Rice, who had been working the field on Jerome's other side, came up to inspect this turn of events. Jerome had once again allowed his mind to wander as he watched his brother get swallowed by the swirling dust clouds, but was shaken out of his thoughts by her soft alto voice.

"We can't keep doing this." Samantha softly warned, "Eventually they're going to get suspicious." With a sigh, she added, "We're starting to get in over our heads here."

Jerome continued to stare after his brother, now just a speck in the distance.

The two stood in silence for a second, then Samantha continued, "Are you sure you want to bring your little brother into this?"

Jerome sighed heavily and looked back at Samantha, who had furrowed her brow with visible concern. "The boy's not old 'nough to understand. If anyone finds out, they'll be comin' fer us, not fer 'im." He looked down at the piece of metal protruding from the dirt, a dark anomaly in the light beige wasteland. Scraping his tool around lightly, absentmindedly drawing circles in the sandy earth, he added, "Anyways, we've been careful 'nough. Ain't nobody gonna find out."

Samantha wasn't convinced, but decided to keep it to herself. "We better get back to work before they send someone down to make us", Samantha nodded toward the guard tower, where several peacekeepers were beginning to eye them with suspicion.

Without looking back at her, Jerome grunted an unintelligible response and went back to hacking at the overgrown field.


	4. Chapter 2

The patter of raindrops on the tin roof echoed softly throughout the train station. The rain had been falling in steady sheets for most of the day, and didn't show any sign of letting up. The shrill whistle had sounded about thirty minutes prior, signaling the end of the work day for the railroad coordinators and dock workers. The squeal of metal wheels against rails and bustling commotion of engineers hastily hitching and unhitching railroad cars had finally ceased.

Wet and cold, Stella Pullman sighed in disgust. She had measured out every inch of the station, plotted out every detail, planned for every possible thing that could happen, except this. It wasn't supposed to rain- not on the big day. She sat huddled behind a damp stack of wooden crates all bearing the crest of District 6, hugging her legs close to her body and rubbing her hands together again, warding off the cold. Though the station was covered, there was little to keep the sheets of rain from flying in through the giant bay doors, which had all been open to allow the flow of rail cars.

She had been planning this heist for weeks and wasn't about to let a little chill or physical discomfort stop it. She was tired of living day to day, surviving off whatever she could slip out of strangers' pockets. When she heard about this opportunity, the idea that she would be set for a long time was one that she simply could not turn down. Building up to the big day, her imagination had told a glamorous story of a thief breaking in, stealing the treasure, then making an elaborate getaway. In reality, though, it turned out that she was spending a majority of it hiding out behind a pile of mostly unused or rejected supply crates feeling freezing and cramped, but most of all, bored.

Earlier that day, she had been desperate enough to take a chance, ripping open a Capitol-bound crate bearing the crest of District 8. She was hoping to find some kind of winter wear, but to her dismay, she only found an assortment of frilly hats and shoes, none of which looked suitable for even the most mild of wintry weather. She slid the lid back closed and sighed in exasperation; she should have known better. The Capitol citizens would have no reason to worry about anything as trivial as harsh temperatures when their fashion style was at stake.

That was hours ago, though it felt like centuries. Now, her legs were cramped and, though the now closed bay doors were keeping the rain out, her body was starting to shiver violently from the cold. She looked down at her fingers and waggled them gently, trying to keep them from going numb. Though the great bay doors had been latched closed at the end of the day shift, Stella forced herself to wait another few minutes before chancing a look around the dirty pile of mildewy, neglected crates that she had been hiding behind for most of the day.

The extra wait turned out to be unnecessary, however, because the engineers, who had been in no rush to stay in this weather, had all long since clocked out and gone home to their families. When Stella finally peeped around the pile of crates, the place was abandoned. It was lucky for her that it was, for as she tried to stand up, she found that her legs, which had been crammed into the tiny hiding space all day, were made of rubber and she lost her balance. She promptly fell over and crashed into a pile of wooden palettes, the deafening sound reverberating off of every wall. So much for the stealth approach.

Stella froze in fear, her heart pounding. Her eyes darted to the main entrance, expecting that any second, a team of peacekeepers would rush in and all of her hard work, patience, and planning would culminate in a bullet to the head. All of a sudden, she didn't feel so freezing anymore.

Seconds passed, then a full minute, and nothing happened. Several times, she was sure that she heard a ruffling in the shadows, but it turned out to be nothing. The echo receded and was replaced by the soft patter of rain. The main door remained closed and Stella heaved out a sigh of relief. She picked herself up and dusted off her scraggly, worn out clothes. If today went as planned, she promised herself that the first thing she would do is burn these ratty clothes and buy something decent to wear.

She jogged across the platform, then jumped down onto the tracks. During the day, they were electrified, but it was shut off between shifts. District 6 barely got enough power as it was without wasting it on unused rail tracks.

Stella followed the tracks to the east end of the terminal until she reached the giant bay door leading to the outside world. It was usually wide open, allowing the constant flux of trains and supply cars to travel in and out of the loading dock as needed, but now they were sealed shut. She ran her hand across the bottom until she felt the cool metal latch, then flipped it and raised the giant bay door a few feet up, leaving just enough room to squirm under.

She jumped when she saw a pair of eyes peek at her from under the door, but it only lasted for a second.

"Boo!", the girl joked playfully, a grin spreading across her face. "Scared ya, didn't I?"

Shaking off the spooks, Stella replied sullenly, "Very funny, Rachel. This is serious. We need to be careful. We could get into huge trouble for this."

Rachel finished crawling under the door and stood up next to Stella. She was soaked and cold from the rain, but it didn't seem to keep her spirits down. Teasing her playfully, Rachel smirked, "Come on, I'm just messing with ya." She elbowed Stella with the remark, but when Rachel saw that she was in no mood for games, her expression hardened. "Okay, fine. Let's just get this done and get out of here." Looking around, she added, "This place gives me the creeps."

Three more kids crept up under the door until there was five of them altogether, standing on the tracks of the darkened terminal.

"Well", Rachel remarked, looking around at the ragtag crew in front of her. "Let's get to work."

The others silently nodded and followed her lead. The two taller girls stood guard, one on the tracks next to the bay door and the other next to the main door. They each carried a pistol, a contraband that would earn its owner a swift death should a peacekeeper find out, and one sported a hunting knife in her boots. With no wild animals inside the limits of District 6, Stella often wondered what it was exactly that the girl was planning on hunting. The other, a much younger and smaller, scrawny girl, followed Rachel and Stella as they began their search the terminal for engine number 5972.

Tarra, the smaller girl, had to struggle to keep up with Stella and Rachel as they weaved silently in and out of the docked engines in the trainyard. Stella hadn't wanted to bring her on this job, but Heather had come down with the flu, so a spot had opened up. Rachel had a soft spot for the younger girl, so she let her tag along on this heist. To be honest, though, Stella didn't trust her

Stella didn't trust anyone, actually. Raised in an orphanage in one of the poorer sections of the district, she had never had anybody to depend on but herself. She may have had parents or siblings out there somewhere, but they didn't really matter to her. If they didn't care enough to make themselves known, they weren't worth the time wasted in finding them.

She had met Rachel completely by chance. They had run into each other while pickpocketing a group of visiting Capitol tourists. The two shared a mutual distrust of others which should have caused them to reject each other, but strangely brought them closer together, as if it was them against the world. They had pulled a few cooperative heists, and found that they could do far more together than they ever could individually.

Things seemed to be looking up for the two of them until the Warner Park incident. Stella and Rachel had been about halfway through a piece they had practiced where Stella distracted the target while Rachel casually perused the contents of the target's purse, when an off-duty peacekeeper happened to be walking by. He called the girls out and summoned the region's patrolling guards. While he was distracted, the two girls jumped him, and only barely managed to escape, hiding out in an alleyway as all the law enforcement in the area descended upon them.

In the dark alley, the two huddled behind a pile of discarded furniture, both convinced that it was only a matter of time before they would be found and killed for their actions. It was in this moment of emotional tension and desperation that the two had shared a kiss. A strange emotion began to flood through Stella. It was a feeling that she had never really felt before, and she wasn't sure what to think about it. She had never had to worry about anyone but herself, and the new feeling terrified her. Stella ended up pushing Rachel away, for fear of the strange emotion, and the two hadn't talked about it since.

That had been only two weeks ago, just before they had begun planning the heist they were currently on. Stella was looking at her now, wary of these odd new feelings she had for Rachel.

"Are you sure that it's here? For real?", Stella offered, grasping for a conversation to fill the silence.

"Relax", Rachel reassured her, "I read the report myself. It said that this was the most valuable shipment this year by far. We're fine."

Stella nodded at this, but her instincts made her suspicious. It seemed almost too easy. If this shipment was so valuable, then why wasn't it guarded more heavily? She had planned on facing a peacekeeper or two, but the place was deserted. She felt like there was something she was missing, but she couldn't quite place it.

Before she could finish this thought, however, she was distracted by Rachel's whoop of excitement. Glancing over, Stella saw the beam of her flashlight illuminating the numbers 5972 on the side of an engine.


	5. Chapter 3

Stella and Rachel grinned at each other. Staring into each other's eyes in the dark terminal, they were both surprised by the sudden outburst of Tarra's cheer. They had completely forgotten she was there.

Rachel looked down at the girl and ordered her to stay outside the train in case anything happened. "Let the big girls handle it, okay?", Rachel teased.

Tarra looked visibly upset, her lip sticking out in an exaggerated pouty face. "But I want to see the treasure chest too!" Her voice was slightly whiny, and Stella couldn't tell if she was faking the childish act or not. Either way, Tarra grudgingly consented and stood outside the train on guard duty.

Rachel nodded in satisfaction, then boarded the train, and Stella followed suit.

The car was much larger on the inside than it appeared to be on the outside, as if some wizard had cast a size proportion charm on it. The ceiling towered over them, braced together with heavy steel girders welded into the iron-clad sides. The windows, which had been tinted from the outside, seemed to be very sturdily built. Unlike the passenger cars she was used to, this one was built like a tank. It was unlike any car she had ever seen, and she had seen a lot of them.

The main feature of the room was a large metal chest, nearly ten feet long and about half as wide. When they approached it, they saw that it also sported a daunting deadbolt lock that was bracing the top and bottom of the chest closed.

This turn of events didn't seem to dampen their spirits at all. Rachel glanced over at Stella and motioned toward the chest. "All yours, Stella."

Stella looked at the locked chest and grinned.

Lock picking was a skill that Stella was particularly proud of. It had taken her a solid month of tinkering with padlocks and playing around with deadbolts before she started to get the hang of it, but once she did, she found that she was a natural at it. She came to see each lock with its own personality and could navigate even the most tricky burglar-proof or stubborn rusted locks, and this one was no exception.

As she approached this lock, she saw that it was unlike any that she had ever seen before. On the bottom, she found an engraving marked "Donovan Enterprises", a well-known District 3 based company. The lock was wrapped in wires, each corresponding to a tumbler and measuring how far each had been pushed. She could tell that something bad happened if they received more resistance than expected and had no intention of finding out just what that something was. She also noticed that two of them were dummy pins, rigged to shut the lock closed permanently if touched. This was going to be tricky, and perhaps impossible to any other thief. But Stella was no ordinary thief.

She inspected the lock's outer workings, then dove right in.

After feeling around with her homemade lock pick that she had fashioned out of an old discarded coat hanger, she counted eight bolts of various resistances. This was twice as many as the average lock, confirming more than ever the value of this particular crate. It took her thirty minutes of exploring the lock and pinning the bolts up, and there were two close calls where she nearly lost traction with the progress she had already made. However, half an hour later, her hands damp with sweat and cramped from holding the pick at odd angles, the lock broke free. Her eyes were wide with excitement, a huge smile spread across her face.

Stella looked up from the lock that she had been vigorously concentrating on and up into Rachel's relieved, yet apprehensive face. "Can I do the honors?"

Rachel nodded as Stella cast the lock to the side and grunted as she heaved the box open.

The light of Rachel's flashlight reflected off the box's contents, but Stella could immediately tell that something was wrong. What she was staring at was not a shipment of silver pieces making its way from District 2 to the Capitol, as she had been informed it would be. Instead, she found herself looking at a long row of smooth round metallic casings, each covered with a fine layer of dust and stamped with "District 12" in official letters, the white paint now faded and cracked.

Staring at the contents of the large crate, Stella had the feeling that they had stumbled upon something far more valuable than pieces of silver, but she didn't know how or what it was she was even looking at. This certainly wasn't a shipment of coal. What else could District 12 have that the Capitol wanted? Pondering this, she stroked her hand across the sleek, metallic surface, mesmerized by her distorted reflection.

As she did, the dust clung to her fingers and the painted typeface became clearer. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that the "2" in the twelve was oddly written, the tail end curving around, as if written in some sort of calligraphic font. When Stella leaned closer, she could read the marking more clearly. The official stamp on the casing clearly read "District 13".

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Stella gulped, panic creeping into her voice.

Rachel responded in a similar tone, "I see it, but I still don't believe it. I thought District 13 was gone- destroyed after the wars..." Her voice trailed off and they stared at each other, neither sure of what to do.

Stella was suddenly flooded with a feeling of intense paranoia, as if she was the protagonist of some horror movie who had just discovered that the killer was in the house, as she realized the implications of this finding. Stella and Rachel silently nodded at each other, each thinking the same thing: they needed to get out of there, and they needed to get out of there now. Just as they came to this conclusion, there was a clicking sound, as all the dull lights within the train all flicked on at once.

Immediately, a shrill scream pierced out through the terminal, then was cut off abruptly. Stella jumped back from the box, her eyes wide with fear. Rachel and Stella looked at each other, then out the tinted window toward the source of the screaming. The girl who had been standing on guard near the bay door, was lying limp across the now live electric tracks. Her shirt had caught fire and her arms were spasming wildly.

Stella felt revulsion at the sight, but couldn't force herself to look away. The girl's wide eyes were now dull and lifeless. Stella felt a wave of nausea creeping up from her stomach, but managed to hold it down. The next shift wasn't for another two hours, she was sure of it. So why were the tracks electrified?

Fear shot through Stella's veins as she realized that she must have fallen into a trap. As if to answer this revelation, she heard several gun shots as the main door sprang open and a dozen peacekeepers in full gear entered the station. The girl on guard there had not stood a chance. The peacekeepers looked around, then caught sight of Tarra standing outside the train, wide-eyed and paralyzed with fear. Without hesitation, they riddled her body with bullets, then began running straight for the train.

Stella only had a few seconds to react. She turned around, kicked open an emergency window, and jumped out, Rachel on her heels. She darted out to the strewn piles of goods and shipping crates, and began to weave in and out among them, Rachel right behind her. When the sound of the peacekeepers began to fade, she stopped to catch her breath. She looked back to check on Rachel, but when Stella turned, she found that Rachel wasn't there. That's when she heard piercing sound of a girl's desperate scream.

They had captured Rachel.

Stella didn't dare peek her head out, for they would certainly see her if she did, but she could hear the quaking in Rachel's voice as she begged for her life. They almost certainly had her at gunpoint. Stella had enough experience with peacekeepers to know that there was nothing she could do to save her friend.

Rachel must have known it too, because she cried out, "Stella! Run!"

Stella heard the sounds of a struggle, and didn't need any more cue to move. She rounded the corner, intent on helping her friend, but was just in time to see Rachel's shouts abruptly halted by a single gun shot that rang out across the cavernous station. Stella skidded to a halt, a series of emotions hitting her in rapid succession, like rival armies fighting over a piece of ground. At first, it was sadness for losing her friend, which turned into anger at the ones who took her life, then it gave way to fear as the peacekeepers rounded on her and she realized that staying put or fighting was certain death. With this, she turned, ran to the edge of the platform, and jumped out into the tangle of electrified rails.

Her smaller size to her advantage, she landed between two rails, then leaped to another gap. When she regained her footing, she began running for the eastern bay door. Weaving between the now electrified tracks, she was all too aware that one wrong step and she would be fried by the electricity.

Bullets whizzed past her head and ricocheted off the metallic rails all around her, but by this point, she was too far away from the platform for them to get a good shot. The peacekeepers were not inclined to follow her, risking their lives for a single petty thief, and retreated back from the edge of the platform. Still, it seemed to Stella as if they had let her go a little too easily.

As Stella neared the eastern bay door, the smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils and she found herself gagging on the rancid air she was inhaling. She willed herself not to look at the lifeless body she had glimpsed earlier from the train, but for a split second, curiosity got the best of her. When Stella glanced over at the girl's limp body, still stretched out over the rails where she had fallen when the electricity first turned on, she immediately wished she hadn't. The girl's face seemed to be melting into the electric rail where it contacted the metal, frozen in a look of pure terror. The sight unnerved Stella so much that she nearly placed a foot directly in the center of one of the live rails.

Stella focused all her attention on getting out, getting away from the horrors, leaving all the pain and regret behind her. As she reached the bay door and slid under it, out into the pouring rain, images of Rachel flashed through her mind, concluding with the final glimpse that she had made of her as she rounded the corner just in time to see her shot dead in front of her. Stella involuntarily shuddered at the image, now burned into her brain.

Mourning the death of Rachel, but grateful to still be alive, Stella took off into the night, her feet sloshing through the icy mud, and disappeared into the inky darkness.


	6. Chapter 4

Michael Donovan (who preferred that you call him "Mikey", thank you very much) was about halfway down the long hallway that stretched from the lavish dining room, which was far too large for the two people who lived there, to the parlor, which was never really used at all, when the fluorescent bulbs that lined the corridor flickered, then went out. Standing in the pitch dark, Mikey sighed in annoyance, then reached his hands out for the wall and continued forward, groping the smooth plastered surface for guidance.

The blackouts, which had been intermittently hitting the entire district all day, were becoming steadily worse. They had been let out of school early because of it, and now Mikey, who had just made it home, was having trouble navigating his own house. Standing in almost complete darkness, he counted his steps, judging the hall to be thirteen strides long. He quite abruptly discovered that his estimate was two steps too long as he smacked into the far wall, hitting nose first.

Mikey yelped, then jumped back. He pushed his wire frame glasses back up the bridge of his nose as the lights blinked back on with a soft hum. His nose and lower lip were pounding with sharp pain, and he felt it for blood, but his hand came away clean. Looking up, Mikey found that he had walked right past the door to the basement, where he had intended to go, and was now standing in front of an oil portrait of his family- or what his family had once been. Mikey, who was only a few months old in this picture, had never known his mother. She had died in an accident when he was young that, he was told, had almost killed him as well.

Mikey turned from the portrait and hurried to the basement door, hoping to get down the steps before the lights decided to give out again. He was well aware that miscounting steps could have more disastrous consequences than a bloody lip as he bounded down two at a time. When he reached the landing, he began to head toward his father's office, but skidded to a halt just outside the entrance. The door was only cracked open, so he could not see inside, but he could hear enough to know that his father was heavily sobbing.

Cautiously, not sure if it would be rude to interrupt, Mikey slowly nudged the door open. His father was sitting at his wooden work station, which was decorated with the nicks and scratches from various tools that had inadvertently been scraped across it. The desk sat in the middle of a vast room filled with half-finished projects, from sparking dynamos to limp robotic bodies hanging from the ceiling by thin wires, their innards exposed.

Mr. Ronald Donovan, a mechanical prodigy, had started his electronics company from scratch after graduation, and, in the time since, the company had become the most prominent supplier of most kinds of electronic equipment for the Capitol, as well as other districts that used such objects. Though it was mostly known for cybernetics and neural implants, the company made a variety of electronic gizmos and gadgets, many of which had become very popular luxury items in the Capitol. At the moment, these mechanical wonders did not interest Mikey; he was solely focused on his father, who was currently sitting with his head in his hands, gently sobbing.

Mikey slowly edged forward, feeling more awkward and out of place with each step. Although his father always got this way just before the reaping, overwhelmed by fear that the Capitol would take his only son, Mikey was still not sure how to address the situation. He cleared his throat, then stuttered, "um.. uh.. hey, dad."

His dad stopped sobbing for a moment and looked up in surprise. His voice contained a heavy slur and his breath dreadfully reeked of something awful.

"Yer na' sposed ta be hurr yet. Didja skip classes again?"

Mikey raised an eyebrow; he had never skipped a day of class in his life. He was confused by his father's strange behavior until his eyes landed on the half empty bottle of liquor sitting on the desk. It was accompanied by two more empty bottles bearing the same label. This took Mikey by surprise. Though his father always experienced an emotional breakdown over the duration of the Games, he had never seen his father drunk before. This was something new.

Mikey caught himself gaping and responded dutifully, "No, sir. They let us out early because of the power outages."

His dad nodded and looked away. "Sorry, yer hadta see meh like thiss." He held the last syllable for an extra beat, ending the sentence with an odd hissing sound. "Didn't 'xpect ya fer a few more 'ours."

The lights dimmed again, but this time held, and soon resumed their full radiance.

Mikey grabbed one of the stools lining the workbench and sat down next to his father. He put a hand on his father's shoulder, and consoled him. "Hey. It'll be okay. This is my third year in the reaping, but my chances are the same as before. Actually, my chances are better than others in my class. Kevin had to take the tesserae again this year. His name's in there fourteen times. I'll be fine, don't waste your energy worrying about little old me."

The two sat there unmoving for a while, Mikey patting his father's back reassuringly. After a while, his father broke the silence, the slur suddenly gone from his voice.

"Did I ever tell you how your mother died?"

Mikey stepped back in surprise.

He had heard many stories about his father and the mother he'd never known. He knew the story of how his parents had met by heart, having listened to it approximately ten thousand times. They had met just after college, and had collaborated on some kind of neural machinery work, which got the company off the ground. It was Mikey's favorite story.

However, he had never really heard the story of her death; He had never even thought to ask. He only knew scattered details: an experiment gone wrong, an explosion, and his own narrow escape from death.

Mikey's dad looked directly into his son's eyes and his voice suddenly took on a somber tone. "Well I think you're old enough to know the truth now. Kelsey and I met in the cybernetics lab. I was doing an experiment on artificial intelligence and she was working with neurotransmitters. Together, we came up with neural implants that linked brain and limb functions. We could rehabilitate handicapped people and repair neural damage. It was an extraordinary breakthrough, and we planned to use it to help people, but..." His voice trailed off.

Ronald Donovan ran his hands through his hair, gulped back another sob, then continued, "It worked better than we could have hoped. We were saving lives and giving injured people a second chance. That's when the Capitol contacted us. They demanded we hand over our technology; they wanted to use it in the Games."

Mikey was frozen in shock; he had never heard this version of the story before.

His dad frowned sourly and shook his head. "We didn't want that. We wouldn't have our inventions used to kill people, let alone children. So we destroyed it. All of it. We would rather give up our company and fortune than help the Capitol with their wretched games. But then..." He paused, looking for the words. "But then, the accident happened."

His eyes narrowed with rage. "They called it an accident, but I know better. I know how I built it. It was sabotage. They rigged it to blow..." His eyes had lost their anger and were now drooped, welling with tears. "She saw what they had done, but it was too late. She protected you, threw her body over you, saved you, but she didn't... didn't..." His voice began to crack and he struggled to continue. "They told me- no threatened me- that if I didn't rebuild everything... that they... they would take you too."

Mikey's dad gritted his teeth at the memory. "I couldn't have that. I couldn't take it. I had just lost her, and the thought of losing you too... So I did. I rebuilt it and handed it to them. Anything to keep you safe." After a pause, he added, "It was my biggest mistake. We should have run, should have hid, should have done something else. Anything else."

His dad was frustrated now, clawing at his scalp and pulling his hair in giant fistfuls. "I never imagined that they would use it in such a _perverse _manner!" He spit out the words acidly. "If it wasn't for the failsafe, they all would've been mangled. I should have just let them get killed by their own creations. That would have taught them. If only I had known how they were using it..."

Mikey, horrified by this, asked, "What? What are you talking about, dad?" Though even as he asked it, he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to know.

"The muttations", his dad responded dryly. "They used my inventions to make the muttations. The gamemakers control the muttations because of the neural implants that your mother and I invented. Every kid killed by one of those monsters is on my bloody hands. Every single one of them."

The air was knocked out of Mikey as he finally understood his father's emotional trauma. His father had not been upset because he feared Mikey would be reaped. It was not about him at all. It was about the other tributes. Every time a tribute was killed by a muttation, his father had blamed himself. Mikey's mouth had dropped open at some point, and was now dry and stale.

His dad was trembling now, his sorrow giving way to rage. "None of this matters! None of it!" He swiped his hand across the table and a dozen mechanical gadgets flew from the desk and hit the ground, exploding in a shower of sparks. He stared numbly at the wreckage as the hums went silent and the various blinking lights faded to black. "Not for the price that was paid."

Suddenly, his father burst into a whole new round of tears. Through stifled sobs, his dad cried, "I tried to make up for it! And now this!" He now grabbed the half-filled bottle of liquor and threw it to the ground, where it shattered in a spray of fizz, black liquid, and green shards of glass. The liquid seeped lazily across the ground, collecting in a shallow pool.

He turned to face Mikey again, now breathing heavily, and shook his head slowly. "They're not taking my bribes this year. Not after what happened."

Mikey, confused by this, cautiously asked, "What? What are you talking about, dad?"

Mr. Donovan, a bit calmer now, looked down at the puddle of liquor as it finally settled, ashamed to admit the truth. "The bribes not to reap you. To remove your name from the drawing. They're refusing to accept them." He paused to let this sink in, then added, "It can only mean one thing..." His voice trailed off.

Mikey was shocked by this revelation, and felt a new sort of gratitude for his father, but also a sense of injustice at his father's shady dealings with the Capitol.

Ronald Donovan, having gone through the gamut of available human emotions, was now tired and spent. He dryly stated, "Just know that I love you. I love you no matter what happens."

At this, Mikey smiled up at his dad. "I know dad. I love you too. No matter what."

The two hugged each other in an embrace fitting of long lost siblings finally reunited after years divided by war. When the two finally separated, Mikey's dad had broken into a weepy grin, and it warmed Mikey's heart to see his dad smiling. "Hey, go grab a broom, let's clean this mess up." He got up and Mikey ran off to the closet to get the cleaning supplies.

In the days following, though the bond between them had grown visibly stronger since that day, Mikey and his father did not bring up the conversation again.

Three days later, Michael Donovan was named as the male tribute for District 3.


	7. Chapter 5

Depending on who you asked, reaping day in District 1 was either the most exciting or the most boring day of the year. Though technically, every child of eligible age was required to be there, attendance was never taken and it was well known that many kids skipped out on the affair entirely. The kids that did show up were either there to volunteer or were coerced into it by their parents.

In the case of Chayonna Davis, both of these applied.

Chayonna didn't necessarily believe in the honor of being chosen for the Games, but her dad believed in it more than enough for both of them. Mr. Davis already had a son who had won three years earlier and was eager for another offspring to honor his family. Chayonna was never really interested in either the fighting or the honor associated with the Games, but she nevertheless trained with the other hopeful volunteers. Though she herself had never been truly driven, her father's intimidation was motivation enough, and she never argued with her father's decision on this matter. It was for this reason that Chayonna now found herself among a crowd of girls eager to offer their lives for their district.

In theory, the crowd was supposed to be split by age and gender, but by the time Vierra, the escort for District 1, had taken the stage, the crowd had split into two distinct factions: those who were planning to volunteer and those who weren't.

Chayonna Davis was standing in the rear of the volunteer crowd, away from the more exhilarated teens near the front who were jockeying for position, only too eager to gamble their lives away. Though she was of average height, Chayonna looked shorter in that moment, because she was hunched over, examining something in her hands through thick glasses, her brown hair falling in matching pigtails on either side of her head.

As the propaganda film for the Games played on an enormous screen, most of the other tributes sang along with the anthem and otherwise paid homage to the Capitol, some going so far as to hold their hands over their hearts or salute. Chayonna, instead, was preoccupied with the world of Loria.

The Annals of Loria was a fantasy book that just about everyone had read in their youth. Most people read the book, acknowledged its merits as a good story, and then had moved on with their lives. Chayonna, however, had never really gotten over it. She had read the book so many times that the spine had cracked in several places and the faded front cover, which had long ago fallen off, was now being used as a bookmark. The story tells the account of a group of German siblings who, when forced to stay at a deranged relative's house during the war, stumble across an enchanted liquor cabinet that, behind rows of aging wine bottles, houses a secret portal to the magical world of Loria. The kids enter the magical realm and go on adventures, meeting with mythical creatures and talking animals, eventually saving Loria from the evil fiery witch, who had planned on halting the world in summer forever, scorching the land and burning down the forests that many animals called their home.

Chayonna knew that the world was fantasy, but she had always wished that there was a way to escape her world and embark on grand adventures, meeting comical, yet surprisingly worldly forest creatures. Once, when she was much younger, her father had caught her digging through their liquor cabinet looking for the secret portal to Loria, and had punished her, believing that she had been trying to steal his alcohol. She took her punishment silently, having been too embarrassed to correct him. She would have to settle for the fact that the only way she could ever visit Loria was by submerging herself in the book, which she had been doing continuously for as long as she could remember.

Currently, the great tiger that ruled the land was in the process of teaching the kids a moral lesson about the value of true friendship as Vierra began the official process of the reaping. A dark container was brought forward that contained small slips of paper which bore the names of kids from the district. Vierra regarded the container with a faint smile, then gestured grandly with her hand before reaching in and fishing a name out.

Holding the slip of paper in her hand, Vierra stepped up to the microphone and declared, "Anna Howler!"

Anna, who was among the non-volunteer kids who had been forced to make an appearance, looked up briefly at the sound of her name. When she saw that it was just Vierra drawing her name for the reaping, she rolled her eyes and went straight back into the conversation with the girl next to her.

Vierra didn't bother to wait for Anna to take the stage before asking if there were any volunteers. As soon as the last syllable of the question left Vierra's tongue, every single girl in the front section of crowd each lifted their hands in unison. The girls had a variety of ways of showing their enthusiasm; Some arms were outstretched in Nazi salutes, while some hands were rapidly moving back and forth, some waving more vigorously than others. Without even looking up from her book, Chayonna also raised her hand, as if it were an afterthought, her mind occupied with the great tiger's encouraging words of wisdom.

Vierra then addressed individuals in the crowd, scanning from left to right, asking each tribute to state their name and age. She recorded each of these things down on an ornate sheet of parchment paper present for just this purpose. After a while, Chayonna received a sharp elbow to the ribs, and snapped out of her trance long enough to look up at Vierra and state "Chayonna Davis, 16", before retreating back into her book. As much as she loathed volunteering every year, she knew that the consequences of not volunteering, primarily her father's wrath, were far worse.

When each of the volunteers were satisfied that their individual names had been received and duly noted, Vierra rolled up the parchment paper and carried it over to a small group of about twenty adults lounging in padded wooden chairs near the back of the stage. These adults, who had won games in previous years, would be voting on which volunteer they believed would be the most appropriate to represent and bring honor to District 1.

Chayonna didn't worry much about being chosen. She had not really been trying that hard in training recently and, anyway, the tribute picked was almost always one of the stocky 18 year olds.

While Chayonna continued to read, Vierra went through the same process with the males. The response was generally the same, with the exception of the whooping and shouts of encouragement the boys made for each other as each of their names were recorded.

Chayonna had just reached the part where the great tiger's monologue was interrupted by the armies of the fiery witch, who had been waiting to ambush them and had finally decided that the tiger had dispensed enough advice, when Vierra returned with names of the male and female volunteers that the group of victors had decided to send to the Games this year.

Chayonna was glad that this affair was almost over, because the constant interruptions were starting to annoy her. She would be glad to finally retreat back to the nice cozy corner of her room, where the world was quiet and she could finally read in peace. She was now so caught up in an epic battle scene between Hans, the youngest German sibling, and an anthropomorphic wolf, that she almost didn't hear her name being called.

She received another elbow to the ribs and looked up, irritated that she had once again been dragged out of the story, this time just before the wolf received a fatal blow from the blade of Hans' sword. It took a second for Chayonna to realize that Vierra was looking down at her expectantly, and another two more to realize that she had been called to the stage.

Surprised by this turn of events, Chayonna lowered the book and trotted towards the stage, still half believing that this was all some sort of joke, and not a very good one at that. As she climbed the stairs of the stage, the older 18-year olds gave her demonic stares, as if it was her intentional devious plot that had stolen their last chance for glory.

Chayonna's confusion quickly turned to fury as she spotted her brother gleaming down at her from the group of previous victors who had selected her name from the list of volunteers. Chayonna's brother, Brodus, had won the game three years ago, having overpowered the other career tributes when the field had narrowed down to the just the four careers. He must have pulled some strings to get her chosen, the idiot. Didn't he know how much she resented the Games? Brodus had always been somewhat of a bully to her, but this was crossing a line.

Brodus either didn't see or decided to ignore the fury in Chayonna's eyes as he stood up with the other victors to congratulate her. Brodus reached out, expecting a hand shake, but instead received the spine of The Annals of Loria crashing solidly down onto his head with a fairly audible thunking sound. He reached his hand up and rubbed the sore spot, still smiling at her with a goofy grin, which only made Chayonna more furious. Before she could get another blow in, however, two of the other victors grabbed her by the shoulders and forcibly led her to the front of the stage. Brodus was still trying to figure out what he did wrong as Chayonna was turned around to face the crowd and took the place of the tribute next to Vierra.

The male reaping went a little more smoothly. The victors had decided that this year, the honor belonged to an 18-year old named Flash Adams. When he heard his name called, the tall muscular boy whooped and cheered. He took high fives and fist bumps from some of the volunteers who hadn't been so lucky as him as he made his way to the stage. He eagerly shook the hand of each of the victors and took his place next to Chayonna, still high on adrenaline.

Flash certainly made the most of his time in the spotlight. He clasped his hands together and shook his arms over each shoulder in a thankful, victorious motion. Then he winked and gave a thumbs up to someone over on the girl's side of the crowd. He was still whooping with delight as Vierra stepped back up to the microphone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen: your tributes from District 1! Chayonna Davis and Flash Adams!"

The crowd erupted into another round of cheers, which continued on well after Chayonna and Flash exited the stage.


	8. Chapter 6

Berton Wells lay snoring loudly, contentedly oblivious of the shadowy figure approaching him. The sheets of his bed may once have resembled white, but had now become closer to the yellow-brown tone of the dirt floor. Despite the fact that his bed consisted of nothing more than this thin, tattered sheet atop a pile of straw stuffed into a wooden trough, it was currently the most comfortable place in the world for Berton.

Well, at least it had been before the entire contraption began to shake violently.

"Wakey! Wakey! It's an earthquakey!"

Berton's eyes shot open and he glimpsed his father's smiling face, his bright green eyes staring down at him. Realizing that there was no real emergency, Berton groaned and rolled over, away from his father, pulling the burlap sack he used as a pillow up over his head. His voice was now slightly muffled by the sack as he dully stated, "I'm sick, dad. Tell them I'm too sick to show up."

His dad let out a loud bellow of a laugh, then responded, "Well I'm sick of the Games too, but if that were an acceptable excuse, I think they'd lose most of their audience! Don't make me get the peacekeepers to drag you out."

Berton grudgingly dragged the sack off his face, a bland expression forming across it. "Chicken pox. Tell them I can't show up because I've got the pox." At this, Berton motioned to his face, which was splotched with acne, the red sores stretching from his forehead, down his face and neck, and onto his chest below his ragged shirt.

His dad let out another chuckle and responded, "Do you think you're the first to come up with that whopper? Do you remember last year when Mrs. Hazel caught the flu right before the reaping? Didn't keep them from requiring her to show up."

Berton remembered that all too well. During his second year in the reaping, their math teacher had come down with a horrible cold. Mr. Wells and the other teachers had hastily made a stretcher out of two spare broomsticks and a tablecloth in order to carry her out to the city square. The cold weather had not done much to help her flu, but the peacekeepers had been kind enough to let her observe from the porch of the chapel, which overlooked the square.

Berton gave up on his pitiful attempt at a feigning sickness, and swung his feet over the side of his bed. When his father saw that Berton was up for good, he motioned toward a pile of slightly wrinkled, but otherwise relatively nice-looking set of clothes draped over an old rotting wooden chair, and told him to meet him and the others downstairs as soon as was most convenient for him. He made sure to say the last bit with the uppity confidence of an esteemed butler.

This last bit finally pulled Berton out of the gloomy mood he had been in after waking up, and he let out a slight laugh. If there was anything his father was good at, aside from putting up with fourth graders who refused to do their math homework, it was making Berton feel better.

Downstairs, the rest of his family was already eating breakfast, and he slid in to a chair beside his sister. She was in the middle of one of her ancient history speeches, this time about some ancient civilization that once existed on the other side of the world, but had been destroyed by a volcano.

"So then Mount Vesuvius erupted, and Pompeii was completely buried. The people who weren't killed by the initial heat wave had nowhere to go, and eventually all suffocated by falling ash." She gestured grandly at the end of this statement, but nobody was paying any particular attention to her.

Kieran, who, with the rest of the family, had learned to ignore Daphne's rants on ancient history, interrupted his sister to greet Berton. "Hey, look who decided to finally show up!"

Kieran was not technically Berton's brother, but when his family had been too poor to support him, even with the tesserae, Berton's family gladly brought Kieran in. After about five years of living with the family and growing closer to Berton, he might as well have been Berton's brother.

After his interruption, Kieran glanced back over at Daphne and responded, "Not that it matters all that much, but did anything _good _ever happen in history? Why do you only ever talk about the bad stuff? It seems to be all just explosions and wars and death with you."

"There's no point in remembering the normal stuff. The normal stuff is boring", Daphne responded indignantly. Her hands were folded across her chest, but she had a slight smile.

"I suppose it does fit the occasion", Kieran noted. "Reaping day and all."

The comment unintentionally shifted the mood to more somber tone, and the rest of the meal went by in silence.

After breakfast, Berton and Kieran set off toward the square. On the way, the two ran into Allison Sunderhaus, who had once been a good friend of the two, but had since grown apart sfter she had skipped sixth grade. She had been placed in the class above them, and they had stopped running into each other so often. Though the three had somewhat of an awkward friendship because of the distance, they nevertheless were glad to see each other.

As reaping time neared, Kieran and Berton left Allison and headed to their section of the square. They both squeezed their way through the loud chattering crowd and made their way to the other 17-year-olds.

The crowd went silent as District 5's escort, Ferret, made her way to the stage. Dressed in a flowing lime green gown and an absurdly large frilly hat plastered with shimmering jewels, she looked like she was on an exotic vacation in Paris rather than about to draw the names of two children to be sent to their deaths.

Berton had been through the process of the reaping enough times to know the drill. First the anthem played, then the Capitol's propaganda film, and then Ferret would draw the name of the girl tribute. Berton closed his eyes and silently begged for Allison to be spared. He was at least grateful that Daphne was too old for the reaping now.

He released his breath when he was granted his wish, and a girl by the name of Joule Tribble was making her way toward the stage.

Joule seemed small for a fourteen year old, though it helped that she seemed permanently hunched over, her long curly red hair hiding her face, making it clear how much she despised making it the object of anyone's attention. She had been huddling near the very back of the group of girls her age, and did not seem at all surprised that her name had been chosen. She seemed like the kind of girl that expected the worst at all times, and why should today be any different?

Joule kept her eyes straight ahead as she climbed the gallows and took her spot next to a cheery looking Ferret. Joule looked extremely uncomfortable in her freshly pressed black dress, which seemed somewhat appropriate for the occasion. She was holding her hands clasped tightly in front of her and was staring cold-bloodedly down at the wooden floor of the stage, as if under the impression that if she couldn't see anyone in the crowd, they would not be able to see her.

Berton caught Allison's eye and shot her a quick smile and nod, but his heart had just started to pound harder. Ferret had now turned from the container of girls' names and was approaching that of the boys.

The crowd was thick with nerves as Ferret glided away from Joule and toward the vessel containing all of their names. Each of the boys had a different way of dealing with the stress. A boy to Berton's left was wringing his hands and another was biting his fingernails. Berton himself was just focused on breathing. He knew that there was nothing he could do but wait.

Berton closed his eyes and wished with every fiber of his being for any name other than that of either his or Kieran's to be called. He only had two more years left; he was nearly safe. Berton repeated the words over and over in his mind, pleading the spinsters of the threads of fate to spare them just one more time. Ferret's magnified voice over the loudspeakers cut through the silence like a blade, the edge of which stabbed Berton square in the chest as the sound of his name reverberated off the buildings of the square.

The flow of air into Berton's lungs stopped, his body refusing to respond to the requests that his brain sent them. His body was numb and he felt like an apparition, staring down at a ghostly image of himself, unable to move, to speak, or even to even breathe. This must be how those Romans had felt during the last days of Pompeii, knowing that their inescapable death was almost upon them.

It was the warm embrace of Kieran that pulled his ghost self back into his body. Berton's senses flooded back to him as he realized where he was and what he would have to do. He numbly pushed Kieran away without even looking at him and slowly, like an infant taking its first steps, began walking toward the stage.

His legs felt like wooden stilts, but he knew he had to keep moving. All around him, everyone was either staring blankly forward or avoiding his gaze. Their faces bore the cold indifference of the gratefully spared. Tears were beginning to pool in Berton's eyes, and he blinked them away. He could feel that he was beginning to fall inside himself, toppling over, sinking into the inky depths of his own emotions and there was nothing there to catch him. By the time he had reached the stage, he had completely withdrawn, unaware of the world around him or anything in it.

He barely registered the sound of Ferret's voice as she congratulated both him and Joule for being this year's tributes for District 5.


	9. Chapter 7

The holding area for recently reaped tributes in District 2 was a luxurious setup. It was well lit by an overhead crystalline chandelier and was furnished with a set of matching black leather couches and armchairs, all positioned around a single solid oaken table. An ornately decorated oriental rug was spread out in front of an old fashioned brick fireplace, now blazing with freshly lit flames. It was a room meant to make its occupants as relaxed and comfortable as possible, but Konstance Lowe was anything but comfortable. Instead, he was deep in thought, only now realizing the gravity of what he had just done. He hardly remembered volunteering, or any of the events that had followed. Though the events had just occurred a few minutes ago, the whole thing felt like a dream.

He now sat cross legged in front of the roaring fire, staring into the amorphous red and orange flames as they danced their way off the logs and up through the ashen stained flue. The room was considerably warmer than the air outside, and he had already removed his sweater overcoat, now sporting a blue flannel shirt and worn blue jeans.

Just a few moments ago, he had been convinced that volunteering was the right thing to do. To Konstance, it had been simple, really. If he won the Games, he could move away from his step family, whom he believed he was an insufferable burden to. If he didn't return from the Games, then his family would not have to worry about dealing with him anymore. Either way, they would have one less worthless heap of problems to deal with. It was a win-win situation. He had been planning this moment for months, but now that he had done it- had actually volunteered for the reaping- he was beginning to second guess himself.

Even as he had volunteered, in some corner of his mind, he had secretly hoped that someone would try to stop him or that someone would tell him that his life was not worth throwing away, but the reaping had come and gone and no such thing had happened. Nobody had cared enough to try and keep him from leaving. Not his family, not his friends, not even Bethany.

Konstance was pulled from his thoughts as he heard the door creak open behind him. Though he could not see who was there, he could hear the voice of a peacekeeper warning someone that he had twenty minutes. He recognized the voice of Edward Ward, his stepfather, thanking the peacekeeper outside. Edward had never really been on respectable terms with Konstance, who had always turned away from him. Though Edward never let this inhibit his attempts to understand his stepson, he could never exactly figure out what was wrong with their relationship.

Konstance supposed if anyone cared enough to visit him, it would be Ed.

Ed stood behind Konstance in silence for a moment, unsure of how to begin or what to say. He cleared his throat, then started cautiously, "I had to leave Presley and Grace with your mother. She hasn't really spoken since you volunteered. She thinks it's somehow her fault that you did this, which is ridiculous, and your step-siblings think..." Ed stopped mid-sentence, not sure how to proceed.

After a pause, he added, "well if you treat the other tributes like you did them, maybe they'll all leave you alone." He laughed nervously at his poor attempt at a joke. It was probably not the right thing to say, but then again, Ed never really knew what the right thing to say to Konstance was. They both knew that Presley and Grace would be happier without Konstance persistently tormenting them, which had been half the reason he had decided to volunteer in the first place.

Konstance didn't say anything. He did not even turn around to acknowledge Ed, only stared at the flames that were slowly devouring the neatly stacked pile of dry wood. There was a long silence before Ed continued.

"Listen, Konstance", there was desperation in his voice now. "I know I'm not your real father. I can't help that. But I've done everything I could to try to be a worthy father to you. Can't you see that? What did I do to make you feel this way? Is this about the divorce? Please, Konstance, talk to me." His voice was beginning to waver now.

Konstance breathed in a deep breath, then let it out in a long, steady sigh as he slowly turned around to face his stepfather. He had not been able to tell before, but when he turned to look at Ed, he saw that his stepfather was crying, a single tear meandering down his stubbly cheek.

Konstance opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He didn't really know why he had volunteered. There was an awkward silence between them that was eventually broken by a peacekeeper opening the door and letting Ed know that his time was up. Ed silently stood up and left the room and Konstance was grateful that the awkward experience was finally over.

The door closed behind him, but then opened again, this time admitting the only person in his life that Konstance felt that he hadn't permanently disappointed and would actually care if he didn't come back. He was glad that she had come to see him, but his pleasure didn't last long, for Konstance was practiced at reading Bethany's emotions, and could immediately tell that Bethany was angry, of all things.

Konstance had known Bethany all his life and, though he hadn't always treated her the way he knew he should have, he always knew that she would be there for him. Bethany had been constantly hurt by Konstance's arguments and berating, but she had never given up on him. She was the sister that he never had, and only recently had he realized how much of a blessing she was to him.

Now, the two sat across from each other on the oriental rug, neither saying a word. Bethany took off the embroidered gold band she was wearing and began picking at it absentmindedly. Konstance wanted to tell her how much he regretted not having treated her better, but as he began to speak, she cut him off.

"What were you thinking?", she hissed at him. "Why did you think you had to volunteer? Did you think Ed would finally accept you? That your family would finally come together if you came home a victor?" She was using what appeared to be an angry tone, but Konstance could detect the desperation beneath it. "There are plenty of other boys that wanted to go. But you're not like them, Konstance. You're better than that! You're not one of them!"

Konstance stared at her for a second, then started, "I just thought that... that...", but he had no words to finish the sentence. There was no explanation that made sense to him for what he had done.

Bethany was crying now, and it made Konstance feel awful. He hadn't thought about how this would make Bethany feel, and was ashamed of it. He wanted to agree with her, to show her that he believed her words as much as she did, but there was no point. He wished desperately for that moment of shame to be over, for a lightning bolt to strike him dead so that he would not have to bear the shame any longer or continue to stare into Bethany's pleading eyes.

Bethany started speaking again and Konstance could tell that she had given up; that she was distancing herself from him. "You're hurting me, you're hurting David, and you're hurting everyone who ever loved you." She paused, then looked Konstance in the eyes with a cold, emotionless stare. "I guess I just didn't know you as well as I thought I did."

With that, Bethany stood up and walked out the door, before the allotted time had passed, silent tears falling down her cheeks, creating small dark stains on the opulent rug in her wake.

Too late, Konstance came to his senses. "Beth, wait...", he stuttered, but the door had closed and she was already gone. Looking down, Konstance noticed that she had forgotten the golden band behind. Or maybe she had left it on purpose; he couldn't be sure. He picked the golden band up and rolled it over in his hands, running his fingers across the embroidered name of its former owner, once again brooding over the repercussions of what he had just done.

Konstance had not expected another visitor, so he was surprised to hear the door open once more. Looking up, Konstance saw the face of someone that he hadn't seen in a very long time. It was someone that he thought he would never see again. Standing in the doorway across from him was his father.

Konstance didn't know what to say, so he let his father speak.

Chris Lowe regarded his son with affection, then began, "I wasn't sure if I should show up or not. I didn't know if you would forgive me for... everything." He seemed distraught by this.

Stepping forward, he continued, "I tried to come back, to make up for what happened, but your mother..." He sighed and messed with the buttons on his collar as spoke. "When she married Ed... you know she did that for you, right? To save you from poverty? That's how much she loves you."

Chris Lowe smiled with melancholy, remembering the woman he used to know so well. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. "Look, I know that you and... Ed... haven't been getting along, but you fight and you make sure to come back, okay? For your mother. Do it for her, do you hear me?"

He was looking right at Konstance now, his voice picking up a stern tone. "Promise me that when things get tough out there, you'll think of her. Think of her and come home."

Konstance and his father stared at each other for a second, then his father held out his hands and brought his son into his embrace. Konstance was surprised to find that out of all the plush chairs and couches in the room, the most comforting place of all was in his father's arms. The sense of belonging was a warm and inviting feeling that he had forgotten existed, and the world was pleasant and safe for one last moment.

However, the fleeting feeling was inevitably cut off as the twenty minutes of visitation time came to an end, and Konstance was forcibly ripped back into reality.

The door opened and peacekeepers took his father away, and, with it, the feeling of self importance and purpose. His self-hatred once again washing over him, Konstance returned to his spot in front of the fireplace to brood.


	10. Chapter 8

Konstance and the other volunteer from District 2 had been shuttled to a waiting train, and were now sitting across from each other as they made their way to the Capitol. Konstance had been too preoccupied with his own situation earlier to catch the girl's name, and he now found that he didn't really feel like asking. She was smaller than the usual volunteers from the district and had grey eyes and a pointed nose under a head of smooth black hair. Konstance watched the girl across from him as she stared out the window, expertly twirling a butter knife through her fingers in boredom.

The girl was calm and focused, seemingly ignoring him, and Konstance was fine with that. He turned his attention instead to the large screen in front of them that was airing games coverage. The show was currently showing the highlights of the reapings thus far, building up to a live showing of the reaping in District 5.

District 1 sported the usual two volunteers, though the girl, Chayonna Davis, did not seem to take it as well as the boy did. Her name was called twice before she even registered it, and when she finally did, she had looked confused. It almost seemed like she hadn't expected to be chosen, but if she hadn't wanted to be picked, why would she have volunteered?

Then again, Konstance thought to himself, the same could be asked of me.

Next, he saw himself and the girl who had joined him on the train. He hadn't been paying much attention when he had volunteered earlier, focused only on finding the courage and willpower to do so, and now learned the girl's name: Amagi Blade. She had volunteered and was carrying the same cold, emotionless stare that she had now. After she had taken her place on stage, he saw himself volunteer. As he watched himself on the screen, his cold detachment from the world seemed uncomfortably obvious. Before he could begin to brood about this, however, the coverage moved to the next district.

The reaping in District 3 actually turned out to be rather interesting. The girl, Lisa Stillwater, a small mousey 14-year-old, was trembling and bawling as she reached the stage, but was otherwise reaped without incident. However, when the male tribute was called, someone in the audience began madly rioting, throwing chairs and punches at any peacekeeper who dared get close enough. From the physical similarities, Konstance guessed it was the boy's father.

The whole incident lasted less than thirty seconds, but Konstance was impressed that it took no less than six peacekeepers with stun guns to finally subdue him. Konstance vaguely wondered why they hadn't just shot him- it seems like the thing a peacekeeper would do- before coverage moved to the next reaping.

District 4 sported a girl volunteer, which wasn't very common for that district. She seemed almost bored, as if she simply had nothing better to do that day than volunteer for the Games. Next, a tall, wiry 17-year-old, Tomas Waters, was reaped. He looked like he had some sort of permanent limp and almost tripped as he stepped up onto the stage. Konstance couldn't help feeling a pang of pity for the boy and his unfortunate situation.

In District 5, the air was heavy with tension. It might have been a trick of the camera, but it looked like the girl, Joule Tribble, had begun walking to the stage before her name had even been called, as if she was sure that out of all the names in the container, there was no doubt that hers would be the one drawn. The male that was reaped was visibly distraught. As the acne-covered boy made his way toward the stage, Konstance could see in him the pain and self-blame that he himself had felt just a few hours ago. Konstance was suddenly flooded with another wave of guilt about what he had done. Why had he volunteered? How could he not have thought about Bethany?

"You're not trying to eat that thing, are you?"

Konstance snapped out of his trance to see Amagi Blade, who was now studying him with narrowed eyes. She had stopped twirling the butter knife, and was now pointing it toward a bowl of fruit sitting in a wooden bowl on the table between them. "There's apples if you're hungry, you know."

Konstance suddenly noticed that while he had been watching the District 5 reaping, he had brought Bethany's gold ring up and was now pressing it against his lips. Konstance declined the offer with a wave of his hand, then put the band back into his pocket.

Amagi shrugged, then stabbed one of the fruits with the blade, brought it over, then plucked it off the end with her free hand. She turned her gaze back out the window as she began to eat it with loud, crunching bites.

The ride from District 2 to the Capitol was a short one, and Amagi barely had time to finish the apple before the trip was over. The two were getting off the train only ten minutes after they had boarded. The train pulled into the station packed with Capitolites cheering them on, but they had only stayed there a short time. They had smiled and waved merrily before being pulled into a holding room to wait for the other tributes to arrive. Though the Capitolites got a taste of the tributes as the trains rolled in, the real debut was during the parade later that night. As they stepped into the holding room, the tributes from District 1 were already there waiting for them.

Because the District 1 and District 2 tributes always teamed up for the first part of the Games, it was customary for the two to meet up well before the training sessions. There was plenty of time to kill before they needed to meet their stylists, and grouping together beforehand was an old strategy that was meant to make the inner district tributes seem more intimidating to the others, who were each more or less alone when they first enter the training center.

When Konstance and Amagi approached them, Flash nodded his head in acknowledgement and Chayonna raised her hand and waved lazily, without looking up. She seemed completely absorbed with the same book that she had been carrying during the reaping. In person, Konstance couldn't help but notice that the girl was kind of cute.

Seeing his chance to talk to her, he walked over to Chayonna and asked, "Hey, what are you reading?"

Flash sighed and his face fell with annoyance. "Good luck. She's doesn't talk to anybody. She's had her nose in that book since the reaping", he sneered. Thinking about it for a second, he corrected himself. "No, since before the reaping."

At this, Amagi walked swiftly over to Chayonna, snatched the book out of her hands, and examined it. She laughed when she read the title.

"The Annals of Loria? Seriously? You're reading _this_?", Amagi asked in mock incredulity, her mouth curving up into a wry smile.

Chayonna crossed her arms and responded defensively, "Oh, like you've never read it."

Amagi laughed and rolled her eyes. "Yea, maybe when I was nine", she cackled.

She tossed the book to Flash, who caught it lazily with one hand, glad for something to cure his boredom. He proceeded to hold it up over his head where he knew Chayonna couldn't reach it. He gave her a smirk, but Chayonna just glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of jumping up and grabbing for it.

Konstance admired the girl's refusal to play Flash's game, but stepped back, not particularly wanting to take part in this hazing ritual. Still, he wanted Chayonna to know that he was on her side.

"Come on, Flash, give her the book back", Konstance chided.

Though Konstance was two inches taller than him, Flash had a bigger ego. He rounded on Konstance, his eyes going wide.

"Ooh, pretty boy is trying to defend his girlfriend. Whatcha gonna do about it? You gonna make me?" Flash was clearly daring him to try something, but Konstance was unaffected by his taunts. The refusal to play his game annoyed Flash. He was about to throw another series of mocking remarks at Konstance, but he was cut off.

While Flash was distracted by Konstance, Chayonna suddenly thrust her open palm forward and struck Flash square in the sternum. He let out a grunt of pain and lost grip on the book. While he was stunned, Chayonna grabbed him by the elbow and the shoulder and flung him face down into the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, and Chayonna added insult to injury by promptly sitting on his back, pinning him down.

"Aikido", she calmly informed Konstance and Amagi, who were watching this spectacle with stunned amusement. Chayonna used one hand to hold Flash at bay with a supinating wristlock as she daintily picked up her book with the other hand.

"Thanks Konstance!" Chayonna chirped, smiling at him with a wide grin. Amagi doubled over in laughter and Konstance slightly blushed at the sound of her voice saying his name. Chayonna, still smiling and looking up at Konstance, rotated Flash's wrist and he let out a groan of agony. Then, she opened her book back up and continued reading as if nothing had happened.

Chayonna still had Flash pinned when the train from District 4 rolled in.

Konstance and Amagi looked over as the train ground to a halt halfway down the station platform. Expecting to see the two tributes from four step out, they were both surprised when the door burst open, and Tomas Waters tumbled out head over heels, rolled across the platform, and skidded to a stop about five meters from the train. He was still recovering, rubbing his head in confusion, as a girl appeared in the open doorway of the passenger car.

"Serves you right", she spat at the boy indignantly, then strode confidently toward the still stunned District 1 and 2 tributes.


	11. Chapter 9

The two tributes from District 4 made such a scene that even Chayonna looked up from her book to watch it play out. As the train rolled up to the station, the boy had tumbled out the door and was now laying on the concrete train platform as the girl walked indignantly away from him. The two mentors from four, the ever-popular Finnick and a shy girl that none of the careers really knew all that well, hurriedly stepped off the train to help the boy up as the responsible party bounded away. She was a small, thin girl and her dark red curly hair bounced off her shoulders as she trotted toward the group of tributes from District 1 and District 2.

"What a pig." the strange girl spat as she pulled up between Konstance and Amagi. "Ugh, he was hitting on me the entire trip. It was unbearable." She directed this last statement to Amagi who was snickering at this girl's complete lack of concern. Then she turned to Konstance, who was eying her with worry. "Oh, get over it. He was going to fall eventually anyway. That leg of his is completely worthless."

The girl then turned her attention to Chayonna, who still had Flash pinned face-down on the cold concrete floor, and gestured toward her. "See, this girl knows how to handle them."

She walked up to Chayonna and held out her hand. "Hey, I'm Cassida. It's nice to meet someone else who doesn't take nonsense from these pigs."

Chayonna jerked Flash's wrist one last time, warning him not to try anything funny or she would do worse, then adjusted her thick glasses and stood up. She stepped over his sprawled body to greet the newcomer. When she looked into Cassida's golden brown eyes, Chayonna thought she saw a flash of manic fire burning deep within them, but it only lasted a second before the warm smile once again dominated her small, heart shaped face.

Flash had gotten to his feet by this point and was clearly quite irritated from having been overpowered by a younger, nerdy girl. He pushed Chayonna out of the way and pointed an accusing finger at Cassida. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing, but if you know what's best for you, you would get back to your own group where you belong."

Flash stared down the small, child-like girl and, for a second, Cassida seemed to tremble and her face fell. However, it only lasted a few seconds before the manic smile that Chayonna had glimpsed earlier in the girl's eyes spread across her face and she stepped boldly up to Flash. He had clearly expected the girl to back off and didn't really know what to do when his intimidation backfired.

Flash was flustered by this, and began to strike back in the only way he knew how. He lowered his voice to a growl and scowled at her. He began to barrage her with a series of threats, hoping to scare the girl into leaving.

Though Flash had meant it to take her aback, Konstance could tell that it was exactly the reaction that Cassida had been going for. Though she appeared astonishingly child-like, Konstance could see that it hardly reflected her personality at all. As Flash berated Cassida, her menacing smile only grew broader. Though she was absorbing the boy's harsh words, converting it into a sort of maniacal energy, Flash ignored this, choosing to believe that his harsh words were tearing her down.

Konstance watched the event play out for a bit before jumping in. "She's just trying to push your buttons, Flash." He turned his gaze to Cassida, but still addressed Flash. "And you're letting her do it." Konstance narrowed his eyes at the girl, studying her reaction.

Cassida raised her eyebrows at Konstance, as if just noticing him. Turning her attention to him, a brand new toy to play with, she cooed, "And who are you?" She put a seductive emphasis on the last word of the question, while placing her finger gently on his chest.

Konstance could tell that she was playing some sort of game with him and he wanted no part of it. He stared at her coldly, without averting his stare, and responded "Konstance Lowe. District 2."

Cassida smiled playfully at the new challenge. "I saw your reaping on the train on the way here. Volunteer. Impressive." She ran her finger gently down his chest as she said this. Her hand momentarily paused over his abdomen, and she looked back up at him, biting her lower lip.

Konstance remained unmoved, and stared back at her emotionlessly. He knew that any response would only egg her on.

Cassida held his gaze for a few seconds and the two stared each other down. She waited for a response from Konstance, but was disappointed when she didn't get one. Seeing that her new toy wasn't going to play with her, she quickly lost interest. The large grin suddenly returned to her face and she beamed at him.

Still smiling, she raised her eyebrows and purred at Konstance, "Well, I have to get back to Annie, but I'll catch up to you during training!" As she said it, she brought her finger back up and dropped it onto his chest. She winked at him, then spun to leave.

As she turned, Konstance caught sight of a tattoo depicting several black birds flying up her arm. They were quite expertly drawn to give the impression that they were breaking out of her arm and into the freedom of the open air.

The four career tributes watched as she bounced away, joining Annie, Finnick, and Tomas Waters, who was finally back on his feet.

It was Amagi who broke the silence. "Well that was weird." Then, after a pause, she added, "She seems alright. What do you guys think?"

Flash immediately made his view of extreme distaste for the girl perfectly clear, making sure to argue loud enough for Cassida to hear it from across the station. Chayonna and Flash argued about it, Flash insistent on the fact that outer district tributes were inherently weaker, and Chayonna insistent that she could easily throw him back to the floor if he continued to be obstinate. In the end, they came to a compromise. They would wait to see how she did in the training sessions, then go from there.

Konstance kept out of this particular argument. He had seen enough of Cassida's personality to realize that it didn't really matter whether or not the careers agreed to allow her to join their alliance. In the end, he knew that Cassida would choose to be wherever she wanted to be, whether or not she had been accepted into their alliance.

By this time, the trains bearing tributes from other districts had begun to arrive. As if on cue, the door to the holding area swung open and Vierra walked in with the stylists for District 1. She politely informed them that it was time to prepare for the opening parade.

The tributes split up and went with their various stylists, meeting up again in full costume just inside the giant stadium where they would all be revealed to the Capitol audience. It was also the first time that the tributes were all gathered together in person.

Flash and Chayonna made their way to the front of the line blanketed with shimmering jewels and gems. Chayonna's glasses had been modified to look like a jeweler's scope, as if she were about to examine the imperfections of a diamond necklace. Flash stood tall, his gems aligned in such a way that it brought out his muscular upper body.

Konstance glanced down at his own outfit, which was covered in gray foam painted to look like giant boulders, making him look like a formidable stone golem. Out of curiosity, he glanced over at the chariot for District 5 and saw that instead of trying to clear Berton's acne, the clever stylists had found a way to string lights around his head that made the red splotches on his face glow radiantly. On the other hand, the poor tributes from District 12 were huddled in embarrassment. They had one of the most ridiculous costumes that he had ever seen in the Games. He again felt a pang of pity for the tributes from District 12, who really probably deserved better than they normally seemed to be treated.

Otherwise, he observed that the other chariots were decorated more or less as they were every year. He did notice a few things that he noted for future reference. The boy from District 7, who was dressed as an oak tree with flaming orange and red leaves, seemed constantly out of breath and kept raising some device up to his mouth and inhaling from it. Just behind him were the two tributes from District 3. Both of them were relatively small and, though they were covered with shiny flashing devices designed to attract attention, they both were huddling down in the chariot, making themselves easy to overlook. Behind them, he saw Tomas Waters, the boy from District 4. Now that he was closer, he could see that the boy's left knee bore a large scar and it refused to bend correctly. He had to be helped into the chariot by Finnick, and winced as he swung his knee into place.

Cassida was there too, dressed as a mermaid of all things, conspicuously showing her disgust at being forced to stand within a hundred meters of Tomas. Once she saw that she had Konstance's attention, though, she proceeded to blow him a kiss. Konstance ignored her, and brought his eyes forward as the chariots began to move and the tributes were pulled out into the open stadium.


	12. Chapter 10

Flash was the first one out of the gate. He absorbed the attention like a capacitor, then discharged it back in amplified waves. The crowd immediately loved him. Next to him, Chayonna was giddy with glee as the crowd began to cheer for them. She had momentarily forgotten about the Games, suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd's excitement. She had never received this much positive attention in her life and didn't really know what to do with it.

Amagi and Konstance were next. Though he hadn't really been able to tell before, Konstance could now see that Amagi disliked showing any sort of emotion. She was trying her best to look excited to be there, but it clearly looked forced to anyone paying any kind of attention.

Konstance was slightly in awe as he craned his neck to look around. Even in the reaping ceremonies, he had never seen so many people crowded together in one place. He felt as emotionless as Amagi looked, but his stony demeanor and strong silent type played well with his costume's theme.

Konstance had thought that the crowd's exuberant roar had been loud when he had entered he stadium, but when the chariot behind him emerged, the cheer's intensity increased tenfold. He was somewhat glad that the faux helmet he was wearing dropped down over his ears, or he was afraid he might have gone deaf. Konstance shot a quick glance back, where the two tributes behind him were still huddling down in their chariot. There was something about them that the crowd loved, but for the life of him, Konstance couldn't see it. If anything, the two looked embarrassed as they raised their hands to the enthused Capitolites.

The sudden increase in the intensity of the crowd's cheering reverberated down the hallway full of tributes in chariots, and the reality of the situation hit each one of them. Cassida chose to believe that the crowd was cheering solely for her as she waved and blew kisses to any Capitolite who met her eyes. At the same time, she threw inconspicuous elbow jabs and shoulder nudges at Tomas, who was holding on for his life. She cackled maniacally each time that the boy swung dangerously close to the edge and had to frantically grasp for a handhold to regain his balance.

The tributes from District 5 followed, carrying Berton Wells and Joule Tribble. The two were polar opposites. There was the smug looking Berton, projecting a feeling of utter significance, as if he were far too important to be here and that the Capitol was lucky that he had even decided to show up, because he really had better things to be doing right then. On the other hand, Joule looked like she was in another world, or possibly on some sort of hallucinatory drug trip. Every once in a while, she would snap out of it, then look around, as if confused at where she was and how she had gotten there before slipping right back into her hypnotic trance.

The crowd's cheer had begun to die down now, though it was still deafeningly loud. The chariots from Districts 6, 7, and 8 only caught the tail end of the uproar caused by the first few tributes to enter the stadium. Stella Pullman and Kennedy Orloft were dressed as train conductors, complete with the appalling combination of striped overalls and red bandana. They had not really had a choice in costume, but now Stella was picking at it with disgust. The engineers in District 6 never wore anything like this, and she wondered where the Capitol got their completely outrageous stereotypes of what the districts looked like. It was no wonder that the Capitol didn't care about District 6 if this was how the ideal engineer supposedly looked. Beside her, Kennedy Orloft had the same reaction, and the two exchanged incredulous glances at each other, then at their respective costumes. Suddenly, in the middle of the procession, surrounded by the cheering crowds, they both simultaneously burst out laughing in their chariot.

It's not like anyone's looking at us, anyway, Stella thought. Looking down at the golden pocket watch that came with the uniform, she practiced several sleight of hand moves, making the watch disappear, then reappear again. That one object could buy her months of food in District 6, and they had given it to her as an afterthought; it was just another prop to go with her costume. It made her sick to think about it.

Behind them, two animated trees were waving their prickly branches at the crowd of Capitolites. Napoleon Vandergaard and Violet Aster could barely move in their costumes, which resembled a couple of druidic forest sprites. The rumbling of the chariots had almost caused them to fall out earlier, but they had managed to entangle their inner branches to support each other, and were now using their outer ones to wave to the crowd. Napoleon was dressed as an ancient oak on the edge of autumn, the orange and red leaves accentuating his freckles and wavy red hair. On the other side, Violet represented a tree in the full blossom of spring, which, however biologically implausible, was sprouting her namesake on the tips of each branch, the brilliant purple violets undulating with the wind.

Following the forgettable chariot from District 7 was yet another forgettable chariot from District 8. To Jonah Abagnale, there was no excuse for the district that represented textiles to lose a costume contest, but there was no doubt that his costume was one of the worst there. The ruffled uniform had layers of bright colored fabrics cascading down his body from his shoulders to just below his knees. It was supposedly in line with the current fashion in the Capitol, but he felt like he was wearing a garish, frilly dress, and he hated it. He could vividly imagine his unreserved grandmother loudly guffawing at her grandson sporting women's clothing in his first public appearance, and it made him shudder. He had just about ripped the thing off before the procession began and probably would have if Emma Frisia hadn't talked him out of it. Needless to say, he was in a particularly foul mood as their chariot emerged into the stadium. Woof and Cecilia would scold him on it later, but he didn't care. The crowd wasn't looking at them anyway.

By the time Winnie Wright and Percy Chametz entered the arena, the crowd had lost what little fervor they'd initially had, most of their favorite districts having already passed them. The two mill workers were somewhat glad of it, because it meant that the cameras would spent as little time as possible on their ridiculous white aprons and mushroom hats, which were precariously balanced and in serious danger of flying off in the breeze.

Lindsey Young and Angus Buckingham from District 10 and Jerome Acres and Samantha Rice from District 11 also had ridiculous costumes, but none of them could complain when compared to the costume of the District 12 tributes. Though it would be more appropriate to say the lack thereof, for both tributes from District 12 were completely naked, except for coal ash that covered their entire bodies from head to toe.

Winston Fellows and Courtney McCarthy were huddling in embarrassment and shivering as the chilly air passed their more or less naked bodies. The two tributes were too mortified to even bother putting on a show for the few members of the audience who had bothered turning their heads in their direction. All Winston could think about was his friends pointing and laughing at home, though the thought was occasionally interrupted by the thought of what a hot body Courtney had.

The chariots drew up through the thoroughfare lined with lit torches and up to the platform where the opening ceremony was to take place. Without external guidance of any kind, the well trained horses drawing the carriages all lined up in perfect rows before the stage. As the final carriage bearing the thoroughly embarrassed Winston and Courtney took its place, President Snow made his grand appearance.

He went through his normal welcoming speeches, then read from the treaty of treason. With the mandatory viewings, it was something that the Capitol made sure that each tribute knew by heart by the time they arrived there, whether they wanted to or not.

Konstance resigned himself to the speeches that he had heard every year of his life, but began to perk up when he noticed something strange. He saw something in Snow's eyes that he had never really seen before in previous years. Perhaps it was because this was the first time that he had seen Snow give the speech in person, but as Snow read through the treaty of treason and the reasons why the Games were necessary, he donned an inordinately accusatory tone. His voice became sharp and acidic, burning holes into those unfortunate enough to be standing within its range.

Konstance studied Snow as he gave the speech from memory, not even glancing at the ancient looking document spread out before him. Instead, his eyes were focused on individual tributes, staring at one long enough to send some unspoken message that Konstance couldn't read, before moving on to the next. Konstance wasn't sure, but he didn't think that Snow had ever done anything other than look down at the document or out at the crowd of Capitolites affectionately during similar speeches he had watched in the past.

As he paid more attention, Konstance noticed that the glares were reserved for a small number of out-district chariots. Snow never averted the particularly biting stare to the row of District 1 and 2 tributes; they were earning a cheery looking, though suspiciously sinister smile. It was hard for Konstance to truly analyze this interaction any more deeply, because he couldn't see the other tributes' reactions without appearing to be uninterested in the speech or the Games.

He was smart enough to know that the cameras and Capitol's eyes were on him and he had to look as allegiant as possible if he wanted the sponsors. Now that he was looking for it, though, he could see that there was clearly something out of the ordinary going on, but there was no way for him to find out exactly what at this juncture. He was curious, but patient. There would be plenty of time later to solve this mystery.

Konstance made a mental note to talk to the out-district tributes during the training sessions. He could always use the excuse of interviewing them for the career alliance. He wasn't sure about the cold, stone-faced Amagi, but he knew that Chayonna would be okay with it. Flash wouldn't like it, but he could always temper the boy's pride with the events from earlier. He smiled at the thought of Chayonna throwing the boy to the ground; or maybe it was just the thought of Chayonna that made him smile. He couldn't be sure.


	13. Chapter 11

Each of the tributes had a certain set of expectations prior to entering the training center. The career tributes thought nothing of it; it was just another day of training for them. However, the outer district tributes, most of whom had never held a weapon in their lives, were apprehensive of wielding weapons, let alone mastering them in the few days that they were given to do so. With the notable exceptions of Jonah Abagnale, whose grandparents had been secretly training him in case the day ever came when he was reaped, and both Jerome Acres and Samantha Rice, who had spent their lives wielding various hand-held tools, none of the outer-district tributes had any experience with any kind of weapons whatsoever. Napoleon Vandergaard found himself regretting the decision he had made to pursue machinist jobs rather than field work, where at least he would have gained experience with an axe.

It was also the first day that the tributes were in close quarters with each other. Berton Wells had nearly had a heart attack when he thought he saw Kieran standing among the career tributes, but released a nervous sigh of relief when he realized that it was just Konstance Lowe.

While the other tributes stood in awe at the wide selection of weapons, the career tributes headed straight for the hand-to-hand weapon stations. Flash immediately picked up a spear and began sparring with a member of the training center staff, while the other three headed for the sword training. The initial idea, their respective mentors had told them earlier, was to intimidate the other tributes. By looking menacing through their comfort around weapons, they gained a huge advantage over the tributes who felt like strangers in a strange land. In this way, many games were won before they even started.

Konstance and Chayonna were decent with swords, but it turned out that Amagi was a sword prodigy. She had a sort of graceful flow and could swing not one, but two swords around with extraordinary finesse and accuracy. Konstance and Chayonna stared in awe at the spectacle, as Amagi whipped her sword around at such speeds that the blade was barely visible before it embedded itself into the various targets, completely oblivious to the fact that Cassida had arrived and was standing beside them.

Cassida was also watching Amagi's sword dance, though she seemed to be watching out of boredom more than anything else. After a while, she shrugged her shoulders, then grabbed a sword of her own. To all of their surprise, it turned out that Cassida was fairly decent with a sword as well. She certainly wasn't District 1 or 2 trained, but she had her own surprisingly effective style. She made a joke about getting practice by slicing up boys like Tomas that made advances on her; or ones that she thought would make advances; or just ones that she didn't like. Though she also made sure that Konstance knew that he was perfectly welcome to make advances on her, which is about the time that Konstance lost interest in watching the careers fight at the sword station.

Making an excuse to escape the trap that Cassida was setting, he took Chayonna over to the survival station, where Jerome Acres was building a makeshift shelter. Though they hadn't seen him do any actual fighting, the boy looked formidable enough. At any rate, even if he wasn't, Konstance was looking for an excuse to bring up Snow's curious behavior earlier, for the District 11 chariot had been one that Snow had regarded with extreme distaste.

Chayonna wasn't one for starting conversations, and Jerome didn't look like one for carrying them out, so Konstance decided to bear the entire weight of conversation himself. When Konstance first asked Jerome if he'd like to train with the other careers, it seemed that he hadn't heard, but when Konstance tried asking a second time, Jerome cut him off mid-sentence.

He responded without even looking up. "Look here, Ah don't wanna be a paht o' yo' murder brigade. Ah got mah own problems to worry 'bout. Thank ya kindly."

Jerome manhandled the main support beam of his makeshift shelter a little more in frustration, then pulled back as he stabilized it. However, as he released it, it began to lean to one side and Jerome had to catch it before the entire thing collapsed on him. As he tried to right the pole, he continued, "Mah brotha' and I used to read these stories 'bout an old seaman. Explored the oceans whar nobody ever been 'fore. I figure he had problems like this too." He pointed to the main supporting pole of his tent that was determined to lean to one side or the other.

The normally reserved Chayonna piped up at this. "Wait, wait. Are you talking about Captain Cook?"

Jerome stopped trying to stabilize a pole in his shelter and looked up at Chayonna. "Yes'm. Tha's 'im."

Chayonna lit up at this. "Omigosh! I love those stories! I read them like a million times as a kid!" She bounced away from Konstance and sat down cross-legged next to Jerome. Constantly surrounded by people more interested in violence than literature, Chayonna never really got the chance to talk about her books to others. Though normally quiet and reserved, she couldn't stop herself from gushing about one of her favorite books. Talking to Jerome, she found herself thinking that this is what it would be like if Brodus had actually read the stories instead of just teasing her about them.

With someone to finally listen to her instead of throwing sarcastic remarks at her, Chayonna couldn't help herself. "Ok, did you read the one where he landed in Hawaii during the Makahiki festival and all the islanders thought that he was the mortal incarnation of Lono?"

The question might have sounded foreign to anyone else, but Jerome smiled, which looked strange in place of his normally angry-looking demeanor. "Yep. And they all thought he was a god 'cause his ship looked like tha' holy artifact. Tha's mah brotha's fav'rite. I've read it to 'im a thousand times. Practic'lly got it mem'rized by now." The thought of Pines was a soft spot for him, and the conversation devolved from talk of an alliance into a discussion of which of Captain Cook's adventures they liked best.

Konstance, clearly shunted out of this conversation, silently sulked away.

A few sections down, Mikey Donovan was trying to light a fire, but had only succeeded in burning through precious hours of potential training time. It was almost lunchtime, and, despite the helpful advice of the trainer, he had not accomplished anything. He stared down at the pile of dry tinder, which had been sitting there untouched since he had started, and set down the flint and steel, which had become wet in his clammy hands. He couldn't understand it. He could build an animatronic robot from scrap metal, but he couldn't build a simple fire. Not that he hadn't caused fires before by various short circuiting and malfunctioning machines, but that hadn't been on purpose. Usually. But he just couldn't understand why simply starting a fire was so difficult.

As he sat there, frustrated at his utter worthlessness, he looked up from the pile of tinder and jumped when he noticed Joule Tribble sitting on the other side of his pile of tinder, staring off at something across the room. He had been so focused on trying to light a fire that he hadn't even noticed her arrive. She didn't look at him or say anything, but she took his flint and steel and, in one quick motion, drew them together. A shower of sparks landed on the tinder and it instantly burst into flames. Mikey sat stunned, hypnotized by the crackling flame in front of him.

He looked back up at Joule and thanked her, but she seemed distracted, her eyes jumping back and forth across the room, never settling for long in any one place. Without looking at either him or at the tools in her hands, Joule replayed her previous motion, but slower this time. Mikey could see what he was doing wrong; he had been simply clanging the two together. It appeared that he had to scrape them across each other.

Mikey took the flint and steel back and created a new pile of tinder. This time, he focused on dragging the steel across the flint in the way that Joule had demonstrated. It took a few tries, but eventually, Mikey produced a shower of sparks that landed where he wanted them to. The small fire ablaze, he looked up expectantly at Joule, but she was gone. He had neither seen nor heard her leave.

At that moment, the training center intercom announced that it was time to break for lunch.

Though there were only twenty-four tributes, Mikey was glad that there were far more than that many seats. Besides Joule, he hadn't really bothered to try to meet anyone, including Lisa, his district partner, and he didn't really feel like sitting next to someone he didn't know. He looked for Joule, and found her at the far end of one table. She was huddling down behind the towering Jerome, who had decided not to bother her. Instead, he was talking about various survival skills with one of the inner district girls. Joule was making sure to hide her face behind the locks of red hair, lest it inadvertently become the object of anyone's attention. Mikey felt a little bad for the girl, and decided not to push her beyond what she might be comfortable with.

Instead, he filled a plate at the buffet and sat himself down at an unoccupied table. There were a few open spots at other tables, but Mikey felt awkward sitting down next to anyone he didn't know. As he was eating, he glanced over at the other tributes.

Most of them were engaging in spirited conversations with tributes from other districts, making friends and alliances, while he was sitting here doing nothing. Violet was talking her head off to Percy about how much she had learned about edible plants, while Angus and Winston laughed as they joked about their respective parade costumes. He noticed that some of them were even talking to the boy from District 2, probably about a career alliance, which Mikey was sure he had no chance at joining.

He began to panic as he realized that he only had a few days to figure out what his plan was going to be and to execute it. The problem was that he really had no idea what he was doing. He could barely make a fire, let alone fight. Why would anyone want to ally with him? He would only slow people down.

As he thought this, he heard a tray clatter noisily down on the table across from him and he averted his gaze to the interloper. She was a wiry, almost sickly thin girl with dull gray eyes, her oily black hair falling in sheets, spilling over her shoulders. She stood before him and studied him, her knuckles white from tightly gripping the tray that she had just set down.

Mikey was a little confused about what he was supposed to do as the girl just stood and stared at him. He pushed his wire-frame glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and waited for the girl to make the first move.

She cocked her head slightly, then, she offered her hand to Mikey.

"Hey. I'm Stella. You're Michael, right? I usually only look out for myself, but my mentor said you were the one to ally with."


	14. Chapter 12

To say that Stella's mentor asked her to ally with Mikey would be a bit of an understatement. In reality, Stella and her mentor had gotten into a huge argument after her poor behavior during the opening parade. She had paid almost no attention to the crowds, and the few sponsors that District 6 had retained from the previous year were threatening to redirect their funds to tributes who were "more grateful for the Capitol's wonderful generosity". Since she had screwed that one up, the only other chance she really had at this point was to ally with someone who did have sponsors. At this point in the game, her best shot was Michael Donovan.

Catering to the Capitol's pampered masses was near the bottom of Stella's to-do list, somewhere between throwing herself in front of a train and cleaning every toilet in the Capitol with her tongue, so she had vehemently refused. Her mentor had persisted with her, of course, wearing her down with the statistics of tributes surviving the Games both with and without sponsors, until Stella caved, if only to make her finally stop bothering her about it.

On the first day of training, Stella knew her goal, but wasn't exactly sure how to go about achieving it. She wasn't exactly the friendly type, and making friends wasn't high on her list of skills. She had seen plenty of other girls back at home flirt so easily with the boys, but it was some kind of language that Stella never really understood. She wasn't sure she could pull it off even if she wanted to. However, she knew that she would have to come back that evening with results or once again face the wrath of her mentor. Talking with the boy was the lesser of two evils.

She had spent the morning attending lessons at various training stations, but like a predator stalking her prey, she never took her eyes off of Mikey. She was waiting for an obvious opening to reveal itself, but he was just sitting in the survival station trying to make a fire from flint and steel. The idiot was just clapping the two together, wondering why they didn't just magically create fire.

There was a point when she had steeled herself to talk to him, hoping that he wouldn't think she was just being stuck up if she walked over and showed him the proper technique for making a fire. However, before she reached Mikey, she was intercepted by Konstance who, out of all things, wanted to know if she thought that President Snow seemed a little more sinister than usual the night of the parade. Irritated by this distraction, which was completely irrelevant to what she was focused on, Stella fobbed the boy off with excuses and insults. When she finally got him to go away, she was dismayed to find that Joule had beaten her to the punch. She had set up beside Mikey and was showing him how to shower sparks onto a tinder nest. All at once, the courage and hope she had seeped out of her like the air out of a released balloon.

Stupid Joule, she thought as she sulked away. Going and stealing my idea like that. Who did she think she was, anyway?

By the time lunch was announced, Stella was getting desperate. She had to do something; all this worrying was getting her nowhere. At lunch, her target was sitting all by himself, so Stella scrounged up all her courage and decided to just go for it. If she screwed it up, so be it, but at least she could say that she tried. She brought her own lunch tray over to his table, imagining everyone's eyes watching her every move, and set it down across from him. She clutched the tray like it was the only life raft left to keep her afloat, as she struggled to begin a conversation with the boy. She stared at him for a second, unsure of how to proceed, then decided to go with the truth.

"Hey. I'm Stella. You're Michael, right? I usually only look out for myself, but my mentor said you were the one to ally with."

She offered her hand to him as she shakily introduced herself. As she did so, she winced, bracing herself for the inevitable humiliating rejection. To her, the words sounded crass, as if she was planning on using him. She was, of course, but she didn't think that was the kind of thing that you openly told people. To her surprise, however, the boy seemed fine with it, if slightly amused. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and took her hand.

"Yea, but call me Mikey. Everyone else does."

It was that easy. After all that worrying, in reality, it was no problem at all. Stella had believed that making friends was a grinding and arduous task, but it turned out to be surprisingly simple. Though the two didn't have much in common, they each were desperate enough for a friend that they bonded over things as trivial as a mutual dislike in the taste of the potato salad. When the conversation turned to the training stations, Mikey realized that he really had no clue where to go or what he wanted to learn. He had discovered fairly quickly that he was awful at just about everything, so they left lunch early and Stella took him to the knife combat training station. Stella had spent a better part of her life wielding knives in constant fear of being assaulted, by peacekeepers or otherwise, and was as comfortable with them as Mikey was with a screwdriver. They practiced several basic moves until the career tributes showed up and bullied them into leaving.

After scaring off the two out-district tributes, Amagi picked up the knives that Stella left and casually tossed them backhand at a wooden target, missing just south of center. She shrugged at this display and moved on to the next weapon. Considering her reputation with the swords, her skill with throwing knives didn't really surprise anyone. What everyone was surprised by was that dainty, nerdy Chayonna, who had returned to the hand-to-hand combat station after lunch, could swing a mace around like it was a baton. She couldn't quite keep up with Amagi's sword dance, but, after several tries, she was eventually able to outmaneuver every member of the training staff.

Cassida had reappeared and was now sparring with Flash, who had been eager for a second chance to show the girl up. To his dismay, however, it seemed that Cassida was quite capable of keeping up with his spear movements by parrying his lunges with her sword. Each foiled attack only made Flash more annoyed, though it didn't help that Cassida was antagonizing him with her taunts at every possible opportunity.

The career tributes, who now dominated the hand-to-hand combat stations, looked up when a boy from one of the outer districts addressed them, asking to join their alliance.

Berton Wells had spent the first half of the training session watching the career tributes from a distance before he had built up the courage to approach. He knew that his best chance of survival was to be with the careers during the bloodbath. Though he was slightly intimidated by them, decided to at least give it a shot. If it didn't work, well then he'd be back where he started.

Flash took the challenge, eager to show off his moves. He was frustrated that he was making no progress with Cassida, and was looking forward to fighting someone he could easily beat down. Berton grabbed one of the swords available and squared off against a considerably vexed Flash.

Though Berton was strong, he was not particularly skilled in fencing, and was fairly consistently put down by Flash, who was not holding anything back. Each time Berton hit the ground, the sound of Flash's snide remarks and the cackles of the other career tributes only made him angrier and more determined to fight back. However, no matter how hard he fought, he would always end up right back on the ground a few seconds later, more furious and bruised up than before. Eventually, Berton could see that Flash was just ridiculing him and threw down the sword he had been fighting with before stomping away.

Returning to the nearby station where he had been before approaching the career tributes, Berton kicked over a stack of supplies in frustration. Coils of wire and spools of string rolled across the floor, unraveling as they went, leaving spiral trails of colored thread in their wake. He fumed, barging through the station, shoving down and kicking over anything not nailed down.

The trainer stood up and tried to hold him back, but Berton was having none of it. He shoved the trainer down and stomped on. Behind him, he barely registered the voice of the trainer yelling at him to stop.

"Hey, watch out for the...", but it was too late. In his blind rage, his ankle swept through the tripwire of a net trap, and his rampage was cut short as he was instantly swept bodily up into the air and held suspended from a wooden crossbeam. Held tightly in the grip of a ropy net, he yelled and thrashed in frustration, but only succeeded in entangling himself further in the thick, black threads that knotted around him.

Kennedy Orloft looked up from the twitch up snare he was in the process of trying to balance. Distracted by the sight of Berton's midair bout of maniacal thrashing, the flexible wood slipped out of his hand and smacked him across the face. Though the twig's recoil left a sharp pain, Kennedy was too busy laughing at the sight of the furious boy writhing in the net to really notice. He waited for Berton to settle down and stop struggling before going over to greet the prey his trap had just caught.

Looking up at the boy caught in the trap, he couldn't help but grin, "I saw you over there fighting with that guy from one. You look like you're pretty good."

"Yea", Berton snapped, "I'm good enough to get pummeled repeatedly with a spear, then get caught in a net trap."

Kennedy looked up and once again laughed at him, then pushed heavily on one side of the suspended trap so that Berton began spinning in circles. "That's because you were giving him a fair fight. Silly thing to do, really. It's exactly what they expect."

Berton had stopped trying to struggle, accepting the pointless nature of his attempts to escape his tangled prison as he continued to rotate around.

Kennedy pushed him again and watched him spin even faster. As Berton's face came around, he addressed him again "It's the Hunger Games. There are no rules. If you want to beat those guys, you're going to have to rig the game."

Berton thought about that for a second, which as difficult because he was starting to feel dizzy from the continuous spinning. "What do you mean 'rig the game'?"

Kennedy smiled back up at Berton. He cut the trap down and put one of the sticks used for bracing snares into Berton's hand. He took another one and held it out like an épée, taking a fencing stance. "Look, you put up a decent fight with those careers, so I know you're good. I've never fought a day in my life, yet I bet I can beat you here. Go ahead, try to hit me with that stick."

Berton, seeing a chance to make up for his failure earlier, stood up with the stick in his hand. He had won several fights with school bullies and he knew that he could take this kid.

However, the bout of spinning he had just endured was starting to take its toll, and Berton found himself being pushed to one side by some unknown force. He fell over from dizziness, then stood up again, embarrassed by his inability to even stay on his feet.

Berton steadied himself and shook his head, trying to keep the world from spinning, but it did no good. He swung the stick at Kennedy, but was spending too much of his energy focusing on just staying on his feet, and Kennedy easily knocked the stick away. This happened two more times before Kennedy was able to knock the stick clean out of Berton's hands.

Kennedy walked over to pick up the stick as Berton sat down, trying not to be sick from the dizziness he was still trying to shake off. As he did, Kennedy restated what he had said earlier. "If you want to win, you have to rig the game."

As Berton sat there, his rotating world began to slow down, the carousel ride nearing its end, the wheels grinding against brakes, the organ music dying down.

"Yea, well I wish you had told me that _before_ I went up against the careers", Berton sulked. He looked up at the boy from District 6, but Kennedy wasn't watching him anymore.

He nodded at something over Berton's shoulder. "Maybe you'll get your second chance after all."

Berton turned to look at what Kennedy was motioning toward and was surprised to see the figure of Konstance Lowe making his way over toward them.


	15. Chapter 13

Along with the rest of the career tributes, Konstance had taken a break from his sparring to watch Berton fight with Flash. The boy looked formidable, but he had unfortunate timing. Konstance could see Flash's eyes light up at the chance to take out his frustration on one of the "out-district scum", as he called anyone not from District 1 or 2. Though, Konstance noticed, he no longer seemed to consider Cassida a member of this category. Apparently, the term "out-district scum" didn't apply to people who could match him in a fight.

The other career tributes watched as Berton stepped up and requested an alliance. At just about any other time, the boy might have had a chance, but he had just happened to approach during one of Flash's temperamental episodes. Konstance could see the fire in Flash's eyes as he gripped his spear and stared the boy down. Though the weapons were blunted, he only hoped that Flash wouldn't seriously injure Berton.

Surprisingly, though Berton was fairly consistently overpowered and knocked to the ground by Flash, he did quite well considering the circumstances. Flash was holding nothing back, but Berton managed to only get a few scrapes and bruises from the persistent onslaught of jabs and sweeps that Flash was throwing at him. If Flash hadn't been so vexed, the boy might have been able to hold him off.

After a few minutes of this, instead of waiting for a verdict from the other careers, Berton decided that he was done, and stomped off angrily. This pleased Flash greatly, and he made sure to yell a few profane comments as the boy retreated, but Berton was angry enough that he didn't seem to hear them. Flash turned back to the careers and held out his hands in a victorious gesture, as if expecting the other career tributes to applaud or otherwise recognize his greatness. After a few seconds of holding this posture, but receiving no particularly special attention from the other careers, he gave up and went back to sparring with the station's trainer.

Amagi was not impressed with either Berton's or Flash's fighting abilities. If anything, Flash's duel with Berton lowered her expectations for Flash. Though he was a skilled fighter in his own way, she could see that Flash had several serious flaws with his basic fundamentals, as if he had hurried through those first lessons instead of hammering them into muscle memory in his rush to get to the more interesting moves. She was beginning to think that she was the only one among the careers who had any real fighting skill at all.

Chayonna caught Konstance's eye and gave him a nod. They both thought that Berton had potential and wanted to at least address him about it. As the others returned to their respective training stations, Konstance slipped away and headed toward Berton, who had gotten himself trapped in some sort of snare at the hunting station.

Some other boy prodded at him while he was trapped, but eventually cut him down. Afterwards, the boy from District 6, who had released Berton from the net, conspicuously walked to some other station as Konstance approached. Berton stood up and turned around to greet him. Now that Konstance was standing right in front of him, Berton was amazed at how much the career tribute resembled Kieran. Everything from his slightly hunched shoulders to his lurching gait almost mirrored that of his brother.

As Berton thought about this, Konstance began, "Sorry about that. Flash has kind of a hard head- don't let him get to you. He really seems to take this stuff seriously." He paused, calculating his next statement before continuing, "You really are a pretty good fighter, and I would know."

Berton blushed a little at this, and he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. He had expected the career tribute to be visiting him to rub in his previous loss. However, this guy seemed to be a little more considerate than the average career tribute.

"So did you change your mind, then?", Berton asked hopefully.

Konstance winced and shook his head, not really liking his role as the bearer of bad news. "No, there's no way Flash would allow it. He's a little..." Konstance paused, searching for the right word. In the end, he chose to repeat Chayonna's description. "...obstinate."

Berton nodded. It was as he expected. "So why are you here, then? Are you here to rub in my glorious failure?", he sneered smugly.

Konstance was slightly taken aback by the boy's conceit, but then brushed it off. "No, I'm here for something completely different." He looked over his shoulders, as if expecting someone to be there listening in on him, then turned back to Berton.

"Did you notice anything...suspicious... about the way that President Snow addressed you last night?"

Berton wasn't quite expecting that, and raised an eyebrow. Thinking about it, he shrugged, "I have no idea. I didn't notice, anyway. I just figured that's how he treated everyone."

Konstance stared at him for a second, studying his features. Berton seemed very familiar to him for some reason, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. A few seconds passed this way, then, realizing that he had probably been staring at the boy a little too long, he snapped out of this trance and shook off the feeling.

"What about the girl you came here with? The other girl from 5? What do you know about her?" Konstance offered.

Berton began to speak, but then stopped. He suddenly found that he couldn't remember talking to Joule during the parade or any time after. He looked up at the ceiling, rubbing his hand on his chin, trying to think back. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he couldn't really remember anything about the girl at all. He barely remembered her name. It was like the girl had not even been there through the reaping or the train ride or the procession, though all logic would dictate otherwise. She was a ghost; an apparition with the ability of becoming utterly invisible unless you shone a spotlight directly on her.

Finally looking down and back at Konstance, Berton shrugged his shoulders. "I really have no idea. You'll have to ask her yourself. She's..." He looked around the large room, crowded with tributes and trainers, but did not see Joule among the sea of faces. "...somewhere. I don't know", he finished.

Konstance nodded. "I figured as much." He stood there staring at the boy from 5, the feeling of familiarity once again rising from the dark depths of his memories. He absentmindedly reached into his pocket and rolled the band in his pocket over his fingers as he contemplated the feeling. As if playing over a mental security camera afflicted with grainy images and blurry voices, his mind made whatever memory was responsible for the feeling impossible to make out, and the source of the familiarity remained hidden to him. Konstance accepted its refusal to identify itself and turned, intent on finding the elusive girl from District 5, completely unaware that she was actually watching him at that moment.

Joule had been observing the interaction between Konstance and Berton from a distance with curiosity. She had been watching everyone, actually. She was scanning the crowd, picking up every detail and absorbing every bit of information that she could about them. It was a game that she had often played with herself when she was bored back in District 5. The point of the game was to deduce everything possible about a particular person, place, or thing, given only the information in front of you. Though it was hectic with activity, the training center was absolutely radiant with information if you knew where to look.

Opening all of her senses to the room, she took in the tributes around her, watching their movements, listening to their voices, smelling their sweat, and feeling the vibrations of various weapons hitting their marks. Any other person may have gone comatose from sensory overload, but she absorbed it like a sponge. Percy Chametz, who systematically popped his knuckles when he was concentrating, was talking to Violet Aster, who twirled the right side of her hair when she was nervous, which apparently was all the time. Winston Fellows, whose left shoulder was hunched over slightly more than the other, indicating some kind of lasting injury to that arm, was standing with Angus Buckingham, who was left-hand dominant. All the quirks, habits, strengths and weaknesses of each tribute were on display, and Joule saw them all.

She was amused that that there seemed to be an odd trend toward tributes pairing together. Samantha & Jerome, Stella & Mikey, Violet & Percy, Angus & Winston, Berton & Kennedy were the most obvious. There were tributes that she could tell weren't going to ally with anyone, like the ever impertinent Jonah Abagnale, and tributes that nobody was going to ally with, like the heavily wheezing Napoleon Vandergaard. The social interactions between the tributes were like variables to an enormous mathematical equation that only Joule could fathom.

She cocked her head to the side as she caught two voices to her right. Glancing over, she caught sight of two tributes huddled near a circle of rocks and taking turns creating fires, then subsequently dousing them out.

More importantly, the two were discussing a rather interesting plan, at least by Joule's standards. They were speaking in hushed whispers that she was only barely able to make out from her current perch, so Joule decided to get closer to hear them better. She had long since removed the socks and slippers that had come with her uniform and as she stood up, she made almost no sound. She was aware of every feature of the cold floor, dotted by occasional pricks of sand and dirt that had strayed from the station's mock campsite, as she moved gracefully and silently across the ground, her feet perceiving every pebble, twig, and imperfection in the station's ersatz campsite. She swept in and settled down next to them in near perfect silence.

Though she was now within arms reach of both Mikey and Stella, the two tributes had neither noticed her approaching nor sitting down behind them.

As Joule picked up more of their conversation, she became impressed by their bold idea. She did not think that anyone had tried quite anything like it before, and was quite interested to know if it would work. The two threw suggestions back and forth, hammering out the details, until they came up with a solid plan. The two finally came to a consensus, and decided to enact it the following day. Though the two seemed satisfied with it, Joule could see several flaws in their logic. Forgetting that her presence was still unknown to them, Joule jumped into the conversation as if she had been a part of it all along.

Mikey and Stella jumped back, startled by the intrusion of Joule's soft, distant voice.


	16. Chapter 14

After their lunch together, Mikey and Stella returned to the survival stations. Though Mikey had finally made a fire after having spent the entire morning on it, the entire survival section was foreign to him. Because he had lived his whole life under the protection of his father, his every need catered to, he had never really needed to learn any of this stuff. Stella was the opposite. All of the survival training and more came natural to her, because she had needed to learn it to survive. For the rest of the day, the two went through the survival stations, each time, Stella painstakingly directing Mikey through the process of whatever skill was featured, making sure that he would be able to handle himself out in the arena.

Stella was fairly sure that this was what friends were supposed to do, so she put up with the boy's bothersome lack of knowledge that seemed so obvious to her. Eventually, Mikey began to master some of the more basic techniques, and, though Stella applauded him dutifully for it, she could tell that the boy would fail miserably when the real world finally reared its ugly head. The world was a cruel and merciless place that swallowed people whole, and she had seen it happen many, many times. She decided right there that she would be his friend while she needed to, but she vowed not to get too attached to this kid who would likely be the first to go in the arena's harsh environment.

They had made it through each of the survival stations with various levels of success, and had now looped back around to Mikey's old nemesis: the fire-building station. Stella sat and watched patiently as Mikey, who had given up on the flint and steel, now ran a match along the side of the tinderbox trying to light it, but only succeeding in breaking off the match's head. Stella sighed in chagrin as Mikey held up the broken match and smiled sheepishly. In the real world, Stella knew that if this were truly a dire situation, the boy's hands would already be too numb to hold the match and he would be forced to resign to hypothermia. She dropped her gaze to the ground and shook her head at the boy, deciding it would be wiser to keep that particular insight to herself.

Stella had finally accepted the fact that this survival stuff just wasn't his thing. Only then did it occur to her to wonder what his "thing" actually was. Taking the tinderbox and matches from Mikey, Stella asked, "So apparently you're no good at setting traps, finding food, making shelter, fishing, or any of that stuff. If you don't mind my asking, just what is your plan for the arena?"

Mikey winced at this; he knew the question would inevitably come, but he still didn't have an answer for it. It's not like he had volunteered to be here. He gritted his teeth and winced as he responded, "I don't really have one."

Stella pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "Great." She dropped the tinderbox and it clattered open, scattering matchsticks across the floor. She leaned back and threw her arms up, letting out an overly dramatic sigh of exasperation.

Mikey looked down at Stella, who was now lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. He furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, searching himself for an answer. He didn't want to let the girl down. Though this was technically true, it was shadowed by a greater truth: he was terrified of being alone in the arena.

Using the fear of losing the girl's interest to encourage him, Mikey decided to approach the situation in the same way that he would a broken machine. If he could isolate the separate distinct problems, he knew that he had the ingenuity to find a solution. What he quickly discovered, however, was that there was no way to isolate the problem when there were so many unknowns. He didn't really know anything about any of the tributes, and, even if he did, there was the greater problem of the arena itself. In the past three years, it had ranged from a blanched, arid desert to an ice field, where most of the tributes had frozen to death.

Mikey sighed in defeat. "Maybe if I knew what the arena was like, I could do something, but as it is, there are just so many variables."

At this comment, Stella paused for a moment, then shot up to a sitting position, a strange expression on her face. It was a side of her that Mikey had not seen before, and it scared him a little bit. She nodded her head slightly, then a mischievous smile crept across her face. She leaned in and, in a hushed whisper, asked, "What if you did know?"

Mikey had to admit that he was curious, but was afraid to encourage this side of Stella that he was unfamiliar with. "Wait, knew what?"

Stella's huge smile got even wider. "The arena. What if you knew exactly what the arena looked like."

Mikey shook his head. "Well that would be nice, but nobody knows what the arena looks like before the bloodbath."

Stella narrowed her eyes, her whisper picking up another tone of excitement. "Think about it. They already have the arena built, so it's not like they're going to change it. And this is the _Games Center_. It's here somewhere, we just have to find it. Are you any good with computers?"

Mikey smiled, glad to finally have something to show for Stella. He had learned to navigate a computer terminal almost as soon as he had learned to read. He could get around digital security locks about as easily as Stella could get around physical ones. In another place and another time, the two would have made an unstoppable team.

As it were, the two were now sitting in the middle of a training center, just days away from fighting for their lives. Still, there was a lot that they were capable of, and they began to create a plan for breaking in to the gamemaker offices and searching the computer systems for any information about the arena or this year's games. After throwing ideas at each other for about ten minutes, they finally constructed a plan that both of them agreed with. Though it had initially begun as a thought experiment, by the end, Mikey was convinced that it actually might work.

They both jumped as a voice floated in from behind them. They both turned to see Joule sitting cross-legged behind them. She had joined the conversation as if she had been a part of it all along. Her voice was soft and whispered, and she had to repeat it a few times before either of them even understood it. Even then, her words were jumbled and confusing, though it seemed that she was saying something about the security cameras.

As Stella started to get the meaning of what Joule was saying, she smirked, "Please." She motioned toward the large bulky cameras that dotted the ceiling. "They're not very hard to spot, don't you think? Mikey says he can reroute the wiring so it looks like we were never there."

Joule vigorously shook her head, her eyes still darting back and forth between the security cameras on the ceiling. Her hand floated up and she pointed to several normal-looking objects that were distinctly not cameras. Stella looked in the direction that Joule was pointing, but was unimpressed to find that she was pointing at a plain brown trash bin in the corner of the room.

It was as she expected- this girl was crazy.

She was about to turn back to Joule, when she caught sight of a peacekeeper walk around the brown trash bin, then across to the other side of the room to throw away some piece of garbage. As he walked back, he again went out of his way to walk behind the brown trash bin. As she surveyed at the other objects that Joule had pointed out, she noticed that the trainers were conspicuously deciding to avoid standing in front of them as well, even when it would be more convenient to. Could these things really be cameras in disguise? There seemed to be no other explanation.

She turned to Joule, her voice tinged with wonderment, "How did you see that?"

Joule shrugged, her voice distant, "We only see what we want to see."

Stella eyed the girl with suspicion, but decided that listening to her couldn't hurt. If Joule had heard the plan, the best way to keep her from telling the peacekeepers about it was to include her, making her just as accountable as the two of them were. Anyway, the girl had seen the hidden cameras, maybe she had seen something else that could help them. "So what did you have in mind?"

Talking to Joule turned out to be more difficult than either of them had bargained for. The girl was cripplingly shy, and only answered questions in whispers and truncated phrases. She never seemed to be paying attention, and she was almost chronically unable to make eye contact. Mikey turned out to be better at decoding her strange language than Stella, who had a short temper and little patience for this kind of thing. Though it helped slightly that as Joule got used to being around Mikey and Stella, she began open up a little more, sometimes using complete sentences before her voice faded away, then fizzled out.

In the end, she turned to be worth all the trouble they were going through to talk to her. The girl was an astute electrician, though you wouldn't have known it by the look of her. She had worked in various positions in the power plants since she was ten years old, in an attempt to help her family get enough food for her and her brothers. Consequently, she knew things about the systems and circuitry of the building that even Mikey had no clue about.

Joule's eyes wandered across the network of tubes and pipes tangled across the ceiling. "Security systems...separate network", she traced invisible lines in the air as she said this, drawing pictures that only she could see. She squinted at her invisible drawing, then waved an open palm across it, erasing her invisible chalkboard. Though her lips continued to move, her voice ebbed and flowed like the tide following with the patterns of the moon. "...thought it was safer, contains inherent flaw...flood the solar grid...did it last week...power disrupted everywhere."

Mikey was listening intently, trying to put the pieces of broken thoughts together, so it took him a moment to realize the significance of what she had just said. "Wait, wait. What do you mean power disrupted everywhere? Like in District 3?"

Joule let out a soft, almost silent giggle. She bit her lip and smiled up at a lamp hanging from the ceiling, as if it was the thing addressing her. "...aiming for the Capitol...a little overboard...necessary."

Even impatient Stella, who was getting bored of this choppy interaction, tuned in when she said this. She was beginning to see the advantages of having this girl on their side. The two pulled Joule into the group and the three conspired together. There were several things that Joule had noticed that Stella and Mikey had completely ignored. The most substantial of these was that the center had very few bolt locks, but had magnetic locks that would require a keycard. Mikey was sure that he could break them open and short circuit them, but they wanted to leave as little a trail leading back to them as was possible.

In response to this, Joule suggested that they take a card from one of the peacekeepers standing guard. She stood up, dragged her finger down her left shoulder, then pointed to one of the peacekeepers on guard and patted the back pocket of her uniform. She had noticed that a few of them, the ones with blue stripes on their shoulders specifically, would occasionally bring the card out to enter or exit the training room.

Mikey, who, with practice, had gotten better at deciphering Joule's strange form of communication, relayed this message to Stella. After scrutinizing the guards near the doors, the only problem she saw was that to go anywhere near the peacekeepers would be to draw suspicion to themselves. Mikey and Stella deliberated possible schemes to get close enough to draw the card from one of their pockets, but none of them really seemed plausible.

"Well, then", Stella remarked, "we'll just have to make them come to us." She stood up as she said this, and Mikey was right behind her.

"Whoa, hey, what are you doing?", he hissed. The fire in her eyes was giving him a bad feeling. "You can stay here and be a pansy if you want. I'll be right back", she pushed him aside and started striding confidently across the training center toward the group of sparring career tributes.


	17. Chapter 15

On one end of the survival stations, Angus Buckingham and Winston Fellows were camouflaging themselves. They had quickly realized that neither of them were very good at it, but none of the other tributes bothered them over there, so they had decided to lay down claim to the territory. Though they both shared a mutual unconscious resignation to their harrowing fate, neither of them deemed it necessary to bring it up. Their friendship was similar to that of two prisoners randomly placed together on a train bound for Auschwitz, both fully aware of the events that would inevitably unfold when the train eventually reached its destination.

Winston was tall and lanky, his oily black hair long enough to fall over his dark gray eyes. He could have passed as a goth kid with some strategically applied black eyeliner and body ornaments, though his optimistic demeanor would have given him away. He looked like a science geek who had been bitten by a vampire, but was only halfway through the transformation process.

Angus, on the other hand, looked like a cow. Though he wasn't a very good artist, when his oral descriptions of the creatures so common in his home district hadn't sufficed, he had resorted to painting himself to look like one to get the idea across. It had seemed a good idea at the time, but Angus quickly realized both that he was a poor artist and that he just didn't have the body type to pass as a cow. Though ultimately a failed experiment, it was hilarious enough that Angus had decided to keep the body decoration.

The cow and the vampire now sat playing yet another game of tic-tac-toe with body paint. The station was plastered with their previous games, which were becoming successively smaller as the boys realized that the available space was limited. Lost in their own world, they were reasonably startled when they were addressed by a newcomer. "Can I play the winner?"

Cassida Callero, who had become bored with the hand-to-hand station when Flash took Berton's challenge, decided to find out what the two boys were doing. Angus and Winston looked up at the girl, and were both immediately smitten by her. They looked back at each other, their respective attitudes suddenly becoming serious. Cassida had thrown down the gauntlet, and with such high stakes as feminine attention, both boys focused intently on the game, a ridiculous endeavor considering the game's inherent simplicity.

After three draws, Winston finally let out a victory cry as he dropped an 'X' in the corner box, creating three symbols in a row. He crossed a line through them emphatically and smirked at Angus, who graciously conceded defeat by rising up and motioning for Cassida to take his place.

Cassida jumped up and down with mock glee, clapping her hands in excitement as she sat down across from Winston, who was now holding his hand out, motioning for her to bring it on. Smiling, Cassida licked her index finger, then swiped it across Angus's paint-crusted forehead. The boy jumped back at the touch, and Cassida used the paint to place an 'O' in the center of the board. Then, she sat back, crossed her arms and raised her eyes at the boy sitting across from her.

Winston rubbed his chin, wisely considering this move, as if there were more than three ways to open a game of tic-tac-toe. Then he shook his head sadly, sighing at Cassida's decision to take the center square. "Girls. They always want the center of attention."

He licked his own finger and extended it toward Angus, who stepped back, disgusted. Winston laughed at this. "I'm just kidding, man."

Still smiling, Winston dragged his finger through a clump of paint that he had created earlier for this purpose, and extended his hand to put an 'X' in the corner box. However, he paused at the sound of Cassida's chastising voice.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you", she chided, motioning toward the square he was about to mark.

Winston met her eyes and raised one eyebrow. "Just watch me." He swept his hand in an exaggerated motion across the board, leaving a large messy 'X' in the corner. "What now? Huh? What now?"

"Ooh", Cassida purred, "We've got a rebel. Well what do you think about this?" Her hand still wet from her previous mark, she placed an 'O' in the opposite corner.

The two continued in this fashion, more concentrated on countering the other's banter than where they were putting their next mark. Consequently, as games like these tend to do, the game ended in a draw.

This time, it was Winston's turn to bear a mock pouty face. He drew up another grid, but before he could do anything else, Angus shoved him out of the way and took his place. He didn't even hesitate before putting an 'X' in a corner.

Cassida gasped at this distinctly ungentlemanly behavior, pretending to be hurt. "What? You're not letting me go first? But I'm a girl!" Her face fell as she looked across at her competitor.

Angus blushed and let out an unintelligible grunt as he sat back and waited for Cassida to make her move. Instead of immediately making a move, however, Cassida taunted the boy, trying to get him to react, but the boy was too self-conscious and focused on the game to respond. Her taunts were falling on deaf ears.

The boy was not playing the game that Cassida wanted him to.

Sighing, she put an 'O' down in a random square. Though it was only her second game, she was already getting bored of it. As she placed her second 'O', Angus immediately responded by painting an 'X' in the center box, creating a lose-lose situation for Cassida, but she didn't really care. She didn't even bother placing her last 'O'. Instead, she stood up and yawned, already looking around for other ways to amuse herself.

"Boom!", Angus replied, and took an enthusiastic high five from Winston. He looked smugly back at Cassida, expecting some sort of approval from the girl for his efforts, but she wasn't even paying attention anymore.

Angus frowned at the girl's response. He was sure she would at least be impressed with his skill at the game, but she didn't seem to care. She didn't even congratulate him on winning. To make things worse, as Cassida stood up to leave, she winked at Winson, then kissed him on the cheek.

The dazed Winston lazily smiled, high on the feeling of elation that now flooded through him. As Cassida spun around and started walking off to another station, Winston turned to Angus with a wide grin, too stricken by the girl's attention to say anything. Instead, he alternated between pointing to his cheek, then toward the small girl who was now walking away from them, as he nodded vigorously.

Angus just glowered at him, his hands on his hips, then sullenly turned to watch the girl go. He decided that he didn't really want the girl's attention. In fact, he was glad that the girl had ignored him; she wasn't all that great anyway.

Finally finding his voice, Winston marveled, "Did you see that? She kissed me!" He pointed to his cheek again, as if Angus hadn't noticed the first thirty times he had pointed to it.

Angus leered at the boy for a second, then barked, "Yea, just rub it in, why don't you?"

He shook his head in disgust when he saw that Winston wasn't listening to him, too preoccupied with scrutinizing Cassida, who, as if sensing that she still had his attention, had added an extra sway to her walk.

"Yea, whatever", Angus responded dryly as he stomped off. "You go and wallow in your blissful ignorant little world." His voice took on a dark tone as he added bitterly, "We're both gonna be dead in a few days anyway."

Still moping about how Cassida had ignored him, he sulked off to the washing area nearby to get all the paint off of his body. He pulled his shirt off and yanked on the lever to start the flow of water. He braced himself for the initial shock of icy water, but was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was soothing and warm. The shower was placed in the middle of the hunting station, between the camouflage and trapping sections, and as he washed the paint off, he caught the tail end of a conversation between the male tributes from District 5 and District 2.

The career tribute had gone off looking for the girl from District 5, an enigmatic look on his face. As Berton Wells sat there watching him go, he pulled out a tattered piece of cloth from his pocket and crumpled it up in his hand.

Kennedy returned once Konstance had walked off, and addressed the boy. "So, no luck, eh? No worries, brother. Things will change in the arena. They always do" He paused here, then added, "not always for the better, mind you."

Berton's face now scrunched into a scowl as he turned to Kennedy. "Look, I don't need you to tell me what to do. I can handle myself."

Kennedy ignored the boy's tone and immersed himself into the trap that he had been working on before Berton had stomped over. "I'm just trying to help you out, brother. You're not going to make any friends talking to people like that." He looked up from his snare and raised an eyebrow at Berton, before focusing back on his work. Contorting his face as he delicately wrapped a loop of wire around the base of his snare, he added, "So what's with that rag you're carrying around? It seems to be important."

Though Berton was annoyed, he had to admit that it was kind of nice to have someone who was interested in him. He had initially calculated that the most likely way to survive the bloodbath would be to ally with the careers, but now that this was no longer an option, he decided that there was no harm in pursuing other options in the way of allies.

Deciding to trust Kennedy, he explained, "It's my brother's. It's pretty much all I have left from home." Regarding the piece of cloth, he continued, "It's kind of funny. It has always been difficult for us to get by, even with the tesserae, then the twins came, then Kieran. Life was hard, but it was good, you know? We never had the best stuff, but we had each other. We always had each other. I thought we could make it through anything. And then... then..." Berton found that he couldn't finish the sentence.

Kennedy, whose hands had stopped working on the trap as he listened to Berton, filled in the blank. "the reaping."

Berton just nodded. After a while he added, "I just keep thinking that if I had taken one less tessera, if I had gone just a few more nights hungry, would I still be here? If my name was in there just one less time, would my name still have been drawn? It's killing me thinking about it."

Kennedy let the wires on his trap slip out of his hand as the thing collapsed. He looked up at Berton and said sternly, "No sense in thinking that way, brother. You'll drive yourself crazy. If it wasn't you, they could have called one of your friends. Or your brother. Kieran, was it? Is that piece of cloth his?"

Berton looked down at the piece of cloth and solemnly nodded, thinking about his best friend turned brother, wondering if he would ever see him again. He didn't notice the lone tear running down his cheek until it landed on the cloth, creating a small dark stain in the fabric.

The two boys sat in silence for a while before Berton responded.

"Yea, it's his. It's a piece of his underwear. He ripped it off and gave it to me after the reaping."

Kennedy stifled a laugh, somewhat successfully disguising it as a strained cough. He looked up at Berton, not entirely sure what to say to that.

Berton ignored Kennedy's response and brought the cloth to his face and sniffed it lightly. "I keep it because it reminds me of him."

The two boys stared at each other awkwardly for a few silent moments. Then, Berton burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding. I totally got you, didn't I?"

Both boys were laughing now, though tears still clung to Berton's cheeks. "You should have seen the look on your face."

For the rest of the day, the boys remained at the hunting station, though they were far more focused on cracking jokes with each other than setting up snares. After a while, however, the mood quickly deflated as doors all around the training center suddenly burst open and peacekeepers flooded in. There was a something happening on the far end of the room, near the weapons stations. Both boys stood up and craned their necks to see, but they couldn't make out anything through the crowd of panicked tributes, trainers, and peacekeepers.

As the crowd dispersed, Berton and Kennedy could see the peacekeepers pull out their shock sticks and were subduing two of the tributes. They couldn't tell which tributes were being targeted, though it was obvious that one was covered with blood as both were rushed out of the room on stretchers.


	18. Chapter 16

After thoroughly beating down Berton, the pride that Flash had lost during his encounters with Cassida returned, and, with it, his inflated ego. He chose to spend the rest of the day sparring with the station's trainer, hoping to make Cassida jealous, but she had beaten him to the punch. Sometime during his fight with Berton, she had once again wandered off, having not even stuck around to see who had won. Flash tried to shake it off, but was still nagged by the fact that he hadn't been able to show the girl how well he could fight. Though he dominated several subsequent fights with the trainers, it just wasn't the same if Cassida still thought of him as a below average fighter.

Flash picked up his weapon and once again faced off against the trainer. This particularly lengthy and exhausting match was ended by sheer luck. Flash had managed to parry the trainer's sword, then swung his own down in a stabbing motion. When he did, the blade got stuck between two wooden floorboards, leaving him defenseless.

Flash cursed at this turn of events, and reached down, tugging on the handle of the sword to pull it out. He overestimated the amount of force required, and, though he managed to dislodge it, he had too much momentum. He promptly fell over backwards, landing square on his rump.

"Well I've never seen that style before. What do you call that one? The Flash Flop?"

Flash looked up in surprise at the comment, then was quickly flooded with rage as the full meaning of the statement hit him. Fire permeating his veins, he looked up at the speaker, wondering who could possibly have the audacity to say such a thing.

Stella Pullman was standing over him, her hands on her hips. She was shaking her head slowly, mocking him as she watched him. Beside her, almost hiding behind her, was Mikey Donovan. He was pulling at the sleeve to her uniform and hissing at her to stop. Eying the boy, then Stella, Flash moved slowly and deliberately to his feet, his malicious glare never breaking from that of Stella's. Around him, the other career tributes had stopped what they were doing to watch this scene play out.

Flash inspected the small, thin girl from District 6. She looked small and scrawny and he figured the out-district trash was not even worth fighting. Instead, he approached the girl in steady strides, and soon was standing before her, towering over her brittle figure. To Flash's mild interest, the girl didn't give any ground, holding his gaze.

Staring her down, Flash menaced, "Oh look, it's the homeless beggar from District 6. You must not have taken this week's shower yet; I could smell you coming from across the room."

The hair on the back of Stella's neck stood up as she snarled back at him. "Oh, that's just your fighting style that you're smelling. Now you know how much it stinks."

Flash narrowed his eyes at the girl and sneered, "Look, I don't have any spare change or anything like that, so you can move along now." He made a dismissing motion with his hand as he said it.

Stella was gritting her teeth now. She stepped up to make a response, but was surprised by Mikey pushing her aside. He had intended on defending the girl, but now that he was looking Flash in the eyes, he suddenly forgot what he was about to say.

Flash took this opportunity to accost the boy. "Oh, look, it's daddy's boy. Come to defend your girl? You know she's only putting up with you for the money, right?" Flash laughed at this revelation, then kept at it. "You want to fight me, boy? You'd go down as quickly as your daddy did."

As Flash said this, memories from earlier began to return to Mikey. He could once again see his father sobbing when he had come home from school early the previous week, followed by his face as Mikey was named the district's tribute. A powerful and terrible feeling that was quite unknown to Mikey began to well up inside him, radiating out from his chest, and into his extremities. The image of his father fighting off the peacekeepers as he himself stood helpless on the stage flooded back to Mikey with full intensity.

The world went white for a second as the feeling took over all of Mikey's senses. When the feeling receded, Mikey found that he was now staring down at a dazed Flash, who was sprawled across the floor, blood flowing from his misshapen nose. Mikey was confused for a second, until he looked down at his left hand to see that blood was dripping from his closed fist.

Flash had come back to his senses now, and was on his feet, ready to get retribution on the insolent boy. However, the peacekeepers had already descended upon them, stun guns in hand. The last image Mikey saw before being knocked unconscious was Stella's stunned expression, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped open

Then it all went black.

Mikey opened his eyes and found himself back in his father's workshop. He was a phantom, looking down on his past self as his father told the story of his mother's death. As his father spoke, the power outages hit again, and the lights flickered, then went out. When the lights flickered back on, the workshop looked different. It was newer and cleaner; the tops of the work benches were not nearly as scratched up as he remembered them to be, and the place was far better organized.

These things aside, what really grabbed Mikey's attention was the girl standing in front of him. She was working on some machine that Mikey did not recognize. The figure from the oil painting displayed in their hall was standing in front of him, her long blonde hair hanging in a french braid down her back. His mother looked even more beautiful in person.

There was a small stroller next to her, and Mikey supposed that the child in it was a much younger version of himself. As he walked nearer, he was startled by his mother's sudden cry of shock as the machine began to whir in a high pitch. Mikey saw his mother's eyes widen with horror as she dropped the tools in her hand and threw herself on top of the stroller. Then the machine exploded.

Mikey threw his arms up to cover his face and flinched as fire and pieces of shrapnel screamed through the air, a blinding white light enveloping the area. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on a stretcher, watching the ceiling lights flash by as he was rushed through the halls of some medical facility. The stretcher was hastily wheeled down a seemingly endless corridor before finally came to a halt under a brilliant surgical lamp.

He was surrounded by doctors and medical technicians, each of their faces covered with blue masks a they hurried around, alternately passing strange looking tools to each other and looking back down at him. He mustered the courage to glance down at his own body, the sight of which caused a sickly horror to spread through him as he took in the sight of his battered and bloody body. It all seemed so real; he couldn't tell if this was a memory or simply a bad dream.

All at once, the doctors that were crowding around him looked up and left the room. Mikey felt no pain, though he couldn't be sure if it was part of the dream or the side-effects of high end Capitol drugs. The room was now empty except for one doctor that had stayed behind. He approached the boy on the stretcher, leaned in, and pulled his mask off.

The figure of President Snow stared down at him.

Mikey looked up into Snow's unmasked face as the rest of the world around them faded to black. It was now only him and Snow in the middle of a deep black void. President Snow remained as illuminated as he had been under the surgery lights, and his face showed no emotion as he stared down coldly at the stretcher. Mikey found that he was more terrified now than he had been when he had faced Flash earlier.

Whether it was a physical affliction or simply part of the dream, Mikey found that he was unable to move or to speak. Not that he would know what to say to the president of Panem if he could. Instead, Snow spoke for him.

"That's quite an arm you've got there. Broke that boy's nasal bone clean in half." Snow continued to stare coldly at Mikey. "We went ahead and removed it so you can't do further harm."

Fear flooding Mikey, he looked down and saw that his entire left arm had been removed. He felt the stub where his arm should have been, hoping that his eyes were lying to him. The round nub felt completely unnatural, and he decided that this must be a dream. Definitely just a bad dream.

Snow let out a raspy chuckle at Mikey's reaction, then continued, "Yes, in case you were curious, we know all about that." Snow leaned in closer to Mikey, who was still paralyzed on the stretcher. "We also know all about your cute little plan to break into the security room tonight."

Mikey's heart flooded with butterflies at this statement, and he willed his face not to show it. How could he possibly know about that?

Snow studied the boy for a moment, then gave the boy a slight smile before continuing, "But don't worry, we don't plan to stop you. You see, it's not really worth the effort. In fact, you have my permission to peruse the computers to your heart's content. However, I feel obligated to inform you that it will not increase your chances of surviving." His face lost any traces of emotion that it had once had and became stone cold.

President Snow now leaned in so close to Mikey that he could smell the president's rancid breath. "Rest assured that neither you, nor either of your two friends will escape the arena alive."

There was a long silence between the two as Snow stared down at Mikey.

Then, quite suddenly, Snow reached down, grabbed the boy by both shoulders, and began to shake him. "Mikey? You need to get up. You need to wake up." Snow's raspy voice was becoming softer, more familiar. "Get up!"

Mikey woke up with a start and gasped for air. Now panting heavily, he became aware that the hands were still on his shoulders shaking him. Above him, he could see a face staring down at him, though it took him a second to recognize her.

Once again, Stella addressed Mikey. "Come on, get up! We need you to get up!"

Slowly coming back to his senses, Mikey found that he was in an unfamiliar bed, the sheets soaked with sweat. Suddenly, reality snapped back to him, and Mikey was wide awake. He pushed Stella's arms away and threw the sheets back, bringing his right hand over to check his left arm. Looking down, he saw that it was still there, exactly where it was supposed to be. The nightmare had seemed so real, but it had been just that- a nightmare.

His chest ached where the stun gun had made contact, and it hurt to inhale in past a certain point. Still, Mikey was relieved. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh of relief. It was all just a dream. He still had his arm, Snow didn't really know their plans, and it was all going to be okay. After he had managed to catch his breath, he sat back up and looked around.

Stella was still standing beside his bed, patiently waiting for him to calm down. "Are you okay? Ready to do this?"

Mikey slowly swung his feet to the ground, then nodded his head. He was still a little shaky from both the blow he had received earlier and his encounter with the nightmarish President Snow, but he was quite awake now. The place was dark, but Mikey's eyes were starting to adjust. Looking around, Mikey saw that he was in some kind of recovery room. Before he could investigate the place further, however, Stella pulled him up and led him toward the door.


	19. Chapter 17

"How did you get in here?", Mikey hissed. "I thought they locked the doors at night!"

In response, Stella gave him a mischievous grin and held up a hairpin that she had been given as a part of her parade costume. Regarding the thin piece of metal, she remarked, "Works even better than a coat hanger. Okay, come on, the elevator's this way." She motioned down the corridor to Mikey's left.

He couldn't see how a hair clip could help open a door, but he decided not to bring it up and silently followed the girl. At first, he had thought that Stella was a simple girl, because she didn't know any of the math or science ideas that were so obvious to him, but was now beginning to understand that there was a lot more to her than he had initially given her credit for. Instead of pursuing this, however, he changed the subject.

"So where's Joule?" Mikey had been worried at first when he hadn't seen her with Stella. "I thought she was going to help us."

Stella rolled her eyes. Of course he was thinking about Joule. "Oh, Joule's fine. Actually, she's better than fine. She's sitting up in the security room right now." She stopped for a second, nodding her head at a memory. "She works magic with those circuit boards. It was pretty amazing to watch. She did something with the wiring, then all the computer screens went blue, and all the doors opened up. I was expecting some alarm to go off, but it was quiet. She just gave me one of those weird smiles, you know what I mean?"

Having been on the receiving end of plenty of similar enigmatic smiles from the girl, Mikey knew exactly what she meant. As they reached the elevator, Stella pulled out the keycard she had swiped from one of the peacekeepers earlier during the commotion caused by the fight between Flash and Mikey. They both stepped in and the elevator zoomed down to the restricted level. As the elevator descended, Stella plunged into the story of what had happened after Mikey had been dragged away.

Stella had not thought Mikey to be the fighting type, so she was shocked that he had been the one to throw the first punch. Honestly, she had been disappointed that it had not been _her_ that had gotten to punch Flash. At any rate, the peacekeepers had descended upon them almost immediately in an attempt to drag them apart. In the confusion, it was no problem for Stella to swipe a keycard, but she had been more worried about what would happen to Mikey.

Though Flash had gone limp after several peacekeepers had rammed shock sticks into him, Mikey had gone into some sort of convulsing epileptic seizure. The peacekeepers didn't know what to do, and had to restrain him until medical personnel arrived with a pair of stretchers. They had dragged both Flash and Mikey away for medical inspection, then had insisted that the other tributes continue training as normal. Despite the order, the spectacle had effectively distracted everybody and the training center became a flurry of conversation about what had just happened.

Seeing this, the gamemakers had called the training sessions off early and everyone had been sent back to their respective dormitories. Joule and Stella had been too worried about Mikey to really get anything done, so they decided to postpone the heist until he returned. In reality, Joule had been far more worried than Stella, who was really just amused by the whole thing, though she strategically left this piece of information out.

The next morning, Flash was back and better than ever, though his nose now had a strange crook to it. However, Mikey had not showed up and there was no sign that he would return. It was as if he had vanished. There was no announcement about what had happened or if Mikey was returning at all, and peacekeepers had pled ignorance when asked. Rumors began going around that Mikey had been paralyzed or killed during the peacekeeper interference, and were only tempered by the fact that his statistics still appeared on the leaderboard overhead, implying that he would at least be alive for the bloodbath.

By the end of the second day of training, there was still no sign of Mikey.

On their way back, Stella and Joule were intercepted by Beetee, the mentor for District 3. While the tributes had been training, because it seemed like the three had formed an alliance, their respective mentors had also been talking. Though he had been advised otherwise, Beetee felt that it was his duty to inform the girls that Mikey had gone into a coma directly following the attack, but was now doing fine and only resting. The electric shock had had an unforeseen side effect, and the medical center staff wanted to monitor him for a while longer to make sure that the effects had receded.

At the news that Mikey was fine and was only being retained for observation, Stella and Joule had both felt like a great burden they had not known they were carrying had been lifted. As they recovered from this, Stella caught Joule's attention and muttered only loud enough for her to hear. "Tonight?"

Joule didn't look up at her, but nodded very slightly, almost imperceptibly.

The heist was on.

That night, or more appropriately, very early the next morning, Stella had picked the lock to her dormitory door and crept out. She had used the keycard on the elevator to get to the fifth floor, and was in the process of picking the lock to the girls' dormitory when Joule had simply appeared behind her. Apparently, Joule had slipped out before the door was locked and had been waiting for her. She had gone the security center to do her part, and Stella had crept down to the medical center to find Mikey.

The elevator hit the sub-basement floor as Stella finished her explanation. The doors silently slid open, and Stella strutted out into the now empty security level halls. She stopped when she realized that Mikey was still huddled in the corner of the elevator.

Acting out of line was not something that Mikey ordinarily did, and the sense that he was breaking laws hindered him.

Stella turned to him, encouraging him, "Relax! We're fine. I know what I'm doing."

He was a little apprehensive, but, like a turtle emerging from its shell, slowly and cautiously left the elevator. Once he had taken a few bold steps forward, he began to embrace an adventurous curiosity, like Indiana Jones invading some new unexplored temple.

The two wound their way through several halls and locked doors, which opened easily with the keycard, eventually finding themselves in the main games room. The circular room featured rows of desks and chairs around a large illuminated map of the arena in the center. Though the lights were off, some of the monitors at the desks as well as the main map in the center remained active, giving the room an eerie blue tone. Each of the desks with active monitors featured a screen that focused on a different aspect of the games, from sponsorship meters and gift prices to hovercraft and camera positions.

As they crossed the threshold, a feeling of awe swept through the two as they both imagined the room filled with gamemakers plotting to kill them. In only a few days, they would be featured on every screen in the room as they made their way through the arena.

There was a gap between the desks in front of them, and they both slowly walked to the center of the room, where the arena map lay spread out before them. The arena was an island located somewhere far south of Panem. The entire thing was sectioned off into small regions that were each numbered, but there was no key for what the numbers meant. Mikey suggested that they represented different gamemakers and that any given gamemaker controlled a specific area.

The theme for the arena this year seemed to be tropical, though neither Stella nor Mikey had seen anything like it before. Except for a few small areas, including the space around the cornucopia, the entire arena was packed with vegetation of varieties that seemed completely foreign to them. Some of the trees had leaves larger than their bodies and grew to heights unknown as they disappeared up into the misty canopy.

As he walked around inspecting the great map, Mikey recognized some of the plants from the ones he had been introduced to earlier in the survival training stations, including coffee shrubs and banana trees.

Stella's voice broke the silence. "Cloud island?"

"What?" Mikey asked, looking up from the map.

Stella was across the room staring at one of the computer screens. Mikey made his way over, where Stella was pointing to the top of the map. After adjusting his glasses, he could see that the the screen depicted a smaller version of the same map, where the words dominated the water above the island.

"Does that mean we're going to be walking through the clouds?", Stella asked curiously.

Mikey thought about it, then shook his head. "No, it's more likely that it's really misty. Or..", he tilted his head slightly, "it kind of looks like a cloud if you look at it sideways." It was a stretch, but it was all he could think of. When he looked up, though, Stella had already moved on to another screen. Her eyes were wide with both wonder and horror. Curious, Mikey walked over and peered over her shoulder.

Mikey gasped when he caught sight of the picture that was holding Stella in thrall. The monitor labeled "muttations" displayed a small green lizard-like animal with orange tiger stripes running down its back. It wasn't very tall, maybe knee-high, and reminded Mikey of a large salamander, except that it had sharp claws and rows of spiked teeth. They both stared at the strange amphibian in silence.

Stella reached down to scroll the screen to the next image, but Mikey caught her hand. "Don't mess with it. They'll know we were here. It needs to be exactly as they left it."

Without looking at him, Stella withdrew her hand. She looked up at Mikey and calmly stated, "Okay, so now you know what we're up against. So what's the plan?"

Mikey closed his eyes to think. He was hoping that the arena this year would be something he was familiar with, but there was no such luck. He was at least grateful that the arena was not a swamp as it had been the previous year. The giant insect muttations had been some of the scariest and ferocious that he had ever seen. Opening his eyes back up, he walked back down to the main map in the center of the room and studied it again. Upon further inspection, he found a several small labeled dots. They each seemed to be small structures, though one in particular caught his attention. Mikey looked up at Stella, who was watching him expectantly, then pointed to the map. "There. We go there."


	20. Chapter 18

The dot that Mikey was pointing to was labeled "supply bunker". It was on the opposite end of the island as the cornucopia, but if it was what anything like what its name implied, it would be a good place to go.

Stella studied the map as well, then nodded in approval. "How are we going to find it? Those trees are really tall, and we're not going to be able to see from above in the arena. It's all going to look the same. How do we know which way to go?"

Mikey thought about this new problem, then studied the map again. The cornucopia itself was curved around, so it appeared to be moon-shaped from above. He tried to imagine himself standing on one of the pedestals, but couldn't quite do it. He had found a comfortable state of ignorance about the situation he was in and had forgotten just how real this situation actually was. His sanity balanced precariously as he perused at the great map in front of him. He could hardly believe that this was actually happening to him.

The map featured a compass rose, and, though he could see that the bunker was directly west of the cornucopia, that information would be useless to them in the arena unless they had a way of determining direction. Mikey took a deep breath and thought about this problem. There had to be some way to determine direction in the arena. The entire thing was covered by a dome, so sunlight would not necessarily be dependable. The trees all looked more or less the same, so it would be easy to get lost or just walk in circles. Still, Mikey didn't give up. There must be something, or some way to orient themselves. Something immobile and easily recognizable.

Suddenly, the answer hit him and he slapped himself in the forehead. It was so obvious, he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it sooner. The answer was staring him right in the face, its smooth, glistening gold surface standing out from the green background around it.

"I've got it", Mikey stated with finality. He pointed at the cornucopia. "Do you see how the cornucopia is curved? Look at the tail. It curves around and points exactly west. When we're down there, look for the tail and head that way." Mikey motioned in a circle where the trees met the meadow. "We'll meet up in the trees somewhere in this area."

Stella silently nodded, then traced her finger through the air along the invisibly line leading from the cornucopia to the supply bunker. The trail crossed through several numbered areas, though there was one noticeably thick blue line that they would have to cross at some point. She looked up at Mikey and asked, "Can you swim?"

Mikey grimaced at the question. "Yes, but..." He hesitated before finishing the statement. Mikey did in fact know how to swim, but he preferred not to if there was another option. There was a major limiting factor that he felt too self-conscious to reveal to her. Instead, he inspected the map again, asking, "Is there any other way across? A bridge or something?"

The two pored over the map again, searching for a break in the thick blue line. However, it spanned the entire island north to south, running from the open ocean in the north to the ocean in the south, effectively splitting the island in half. If there were bridges, they weren't marked on the map.

Mikey sighed reluctantly. He supposed that there were worse fates than being drowned in a river. Being attacked by one of those striped chicken salamander muttations came readily to mind. Thinking about it, he returned to the monitor that displayed the creature.

Now that he was over the shock of seeing such a radical beast, it really didn't look all that dangerous. Mikey imagined that he could just kick one out of the way if he stumbled across it. It's tiny claws were nothing compared to the weapons that the careers would be wielding and, though there were a few sharp teeth in its mouth, the thing was hardly big enough to nip his finger. As long as it didn't bite a major artery, it really didn't look like it could seriously hurt anybody.

There was an arrow at the bottom of the screen that scrolled to the other muttations, and Mikey was sorely tempted to press the arrow button. The next creature, marked "Subject 5" in Roman Numerals, could have been anything. Temptation might eventually have gotten the best of him, but Stella interrupted him before that could happen.

After the initial wonder had worn off, Stella had become very suspicious of the situation. She had a distinct feeling of apprehension due in part to the fact that they had met no opposition. The events that had occurred the last time she had felt this way were still fresh in her mind, which only made her more vigilant.

The only reason that she hadn't already called the whole thing off was that circumstances were different this time. There was no reason for anyone to expect them to be able to get in here, let alone actually try to. What were the chances of three people with their qualifications being reaped the same year, then coming together and thinking of this plot? The chance of it was so infinitesimal that the gamemakers would never expect it, especially if Joule was as good as she said she was.

For a while, she had taken the edge off her crisp fears by reasoning that there was nothing worse that they could do to her that they weren't already going to do, but it didn't last long. She knew that there was always something to take. She truly believed that she had a chance of winning this thing, and these people could easily take that away. They could blow her up on the pedestal, they could send muttations after her, they could kill her in any number of horribly painful ways if they had any reason to.

As she toured the room, seeing how much control the gamemakers actually had in the arena, the whole illusion of the games began to come crashing down around her. The more she saw, the more she realized that it didn't matter how well you fought or how clever you were, the only way you could win the games was if the people in this room wanted you to. The words of her mentor rose up from the depths of her memory, smacking her in the face with a dose of reality. For the first time, she could see that her mentor was right. Absolutely right. If you wanted to win, you had to make people like you. Standing in this room, the final pieces fell in to place as it occurred to her that it wasn't just the sponsors that had to like her, but the gamemakers as well.

The revelation was almost more than she could handle, and she had to sit down in one of the seats placed around the softly illuminated desks. The world of the Games was so completely different from the world that she knew. She was used to manipulating people and using them to survive. In the end, she usually did better off if she didn't care what people thought of her. There was only one person that she had decided to try to care about, and that particular person had been killed in front of her.

She looked up at Mikey, who was now back at the station displaying the muttations. For the first time, she saw what her mentor saw in him. Though she had mocked him earlier for lacking survival skills, what she hadn't realized is that he had the one survival skill that mattered most of all. He could make people like him. In this place, her survival mattered on more than just her ability to defend herself and get food. Her survival depended on the people in this room liking her; wanting her to survive. More than anything, her survival depended on his survival.

The room had fallen completely silent, except for the soft humming of the air conditioner exerting itself to keep the climate in a comfortable equilibrium and the ticking of the golden pocket watch she had stolen from her parade uniform. Hearing the rhythmic ticking, she pulled it out and checked it. She was surprised to find that they had been in this room for nearly an hour.

She closed the watch and tucked it back into her pocket. Though there was more to explore, she knew better than to go against her instincts. It was time to go. She crossed the room to where Mikey was having an internal struggle about whether or not to touch the computer console.

This time, it was Stella who grabbed Mikey's hand. Pointing to the golden pocket watch, she ordered, "Time's up. We've got to go." As she turned and headed toward the main entrance, she added emphatically, "Now."

Mikey looked back at the screen one more time, but decided against pushing his luck. Instead, he followed her out of the room and closed the door behind him. The two snaked back through the hallways the way they came. Mikey was lost in the maze of corridors, but Stella seemed like she knew where she was going, so he followed obediently. She pushed through a final set of doors and Mikey finally recognized the elevator that had deposited them on this level. Stella hit the call button and the two of them stood there in silence as the car made its way to them.

When the elevator arrived and the doors silently slid open, the two entered and rode the elevator back to the medical level where Mikey had been staying. He was still disoriented, but was fairly sure that he could find his way back once he was on the right floor.

As he started to leave the elevator, however, Stella grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. She eyed the boy accusingly, then hissed, "Look, I don't know why you're getting all this special treatment." She paused after the statement, realizing that her tone did not quite reflect what she actually felt. Though outwardly, it seemed that she was blaming him, in reality, she felt hurt. "I just mean, what did you do to make them all like you? First, all the fans cheer for your chariot, then you get all these sponsors and fancy decorations for your room. Why do they all love you, but hate me? What am I doing wrong?"

After having dealt with an entire afternoon of Stella's complaints about how much better he had it in life, Mikey had begun get annoyed by them, though this one sounded different, more personal. He couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the girl as he shrugged. "I don't know. I just be myself." Mikey grinned sheepishly at the comment. He really didn't know how to answer that question, or if there even was a correct answer to it.

Stella sighed, shaking her head, then reached for the button to send the elevator back to her dormitory on the sixth floor. As the elevator doors closed, Mikey heard her mumbling to herself. "Hmmph. Nobody ever gave me any flowers."

The statement baffled Mikey, and he wasn't entirely sure that he had heard it correctly. Though he wasn't a particularly observant person, he hadn't recalled any flowers in his apartment and he felt like he would remember someone handing him flowers. Anyway, he reasoned, if she wanted flowers, she could easily ask the avoxes to bring her some; they weren't exactly considered luxury items. Mikey wanted to ask her what she meant, but the doors were already closed, and she was gone.

He supposed it didn't really matter all that much, but this girl was strange. He would think about it more later, but as he walked back to the recovery room, images from the arena occupied his mind. He thought about the enormous trees and the mutated amphibians. He thought about the cornucopia and the deep, dark jungle that surrounded it. He thought about the supply bunker, then, glancing down at his arm, he thought about the river that he would have to somehow cross to get to it.

Making the final turn, he reached the double doors that led to the recovery room and pushed them open. Finally feeling safe, he was about to lie back down on the hospital bed when something caught his attention. Upon closer inspection, he saw something that he didn't quite remember being there before, though it was possible that he simply hadn't noticed it.

On the table beside his bed, standing in an ornate china vase, was a single white rose.


	21. Chapter 19

**Okay, I don't usually write notes like this, but after reading a bunch of your comments and PMs, I think we all agree**** that my writing has become somewhat lethargic and admittedly lame as of late. It's a consequence of writing 2000 words every day for two weeks straight, but I knew what I was getting into when I started, so that's no excuse. Honestly, what's the point of submitting a story if it is badly written or poorly thought out, right? So, I'm letting you know that I plan to get this train back on the rails. I originally had a different story planned, but compared to the first few chapters here, it was pretty awful, so I scrapped it. **

**I can't really take back what I've already written, but I can do better from here on- I'm just glad we're not in the arena yet. So in the future, don't feel bad for letting me know if it feels like I'm sleep-writing or ignoring your tribute; I don't want you to think that's how I usually write, and I have expectations to fulfill.**

* * *

><p>"What do you mean training is cancelled!", Flash screamed at his mentor.<p>

"Relax, Flash", the cold voice of Amagi was unaffected by the boy's rant. "It's not like another day of training would have changed anything."

All four of the career tributes and their mentors were gathered around a table in the District 1 common room. The building had been locked down, but because of their inherent association, a stairway had been added many years prior that connected the common rooms of the two districts.

"Look, maybe you don't take this seriously, but I do!" Flash turned his attention to the small girl.

If she was intimidated, she didn't show it. Instead, she muttered underneath her breath, "If you really took this seriously, you would match your opponent's gait in your high guard stance."

"What was that? What did you say to me?" Flash was on his feet now, staring down at Amagi. He would have said more, but Brutus cut in.

"Enough!" His thunderous voice commanded everyone's attention, including Flash, who was cut off mid-sentence. "She's right. They're not going to change their minds. There will be no more training. The individual evaluations start this afternoon. I assume you each know what you are going to do?" His dark marble eyes moved to each one of them as they all silently nodded. "Good. Then we can go ahead and work on your interview strategies. Amagi, you first, come with me." He motioned for her to follow him into the next room.

"Chayonna you too." This came from Gloss who, with his sister, were assigned to mentor the District 2 tributes. Chayonna and the District 2 mentors left, leaving Flash and Konstance alone in the common room.

The two boys sat in silence for a moment, then Flash muttered, "I can't believe they cancelled the training sessions. Some of actually care about training, you know."

Konstance sighed. He didn't want to incite another of Flash's arguments, but couldn't stop himself from pointing out that it was partially Flash's aggressive behavior that caused all of this.

At this, Flash turned on Konstance, "Look, I didn't start that fight. If I remember correctly, he's the one that hit me. I wasn't actually going to attack those freaks, I just wanted them to know their place." In an odd juxtaposition to his normal self, Flash seemed to be sulking. "There's no fighting in the training center, everybody knows that." He shook his head, then added, "I hope those peacekeepers killed that boy with those stun guns."

Konstance was so used to Flash's outrageous anger that he was quite caught off guard by this side of him. It seemed that below all that outward rage and enormous ego, there was a rational human being after all. Either he had given up on playing bad cop or he trusted Konstance enough to show his true self. Going with his instinct, Konstance chose to believe the latter. "Yea, he hit you good too. How's that nose doing, anyway?"

Flash could have taken offense at the statement, but decided against it. Instead, he reached up to feel his crooked nose. "Was that kid holding anything when he hit me? I've been hit with plenty of fists before, but I swear that kid had a brick for an arm."

Flash's perplexed response to getting clocked by a 13-year-old made Konstance laugh. It was a strange feeling; it was something he hadn't done in a long time. "Right. Better not let him kick you. I bet he has concrete legs too."

Even Flash laughed a little at this, which was an strange spectacle. Flash was about the last person that Konstance could see himself being friends with, yet here they were talking and laughing on the couch of the District 1 common room. Still laughing, Flash added, "I hope so- it'll make it easier to chase him down. Tell you what, when I kill that little rat, I'll let you know. Deal?"

Flash didn't wait for a response from Konstance, laughing at his own comment, but the words brought Konstance back to reality. Flash's ego began returning and he went on with his comments and sinister laughter, but Konstance wasn't paying attention anymore. A dark cloud had settled back in as he once again realized that the following day, he would actually be out there killing all these people he had been talking to; the people that he had been making friends with.

After a while, Chayonna emerged with the two mentors from District 1, and they called Flash back to work with him. Flash crossed the room and disappeared through the doorway, leaving Chayonna and Konstance alone in the common room. Chayonna took a few steps, then sat down in the chair farthest from Konstance, closely examining a pendant clutched in her hand. Konstance thought it would be rude to just stare at her, so instead, he carefully examined the seam on the arm of the sofa, showing more interest in it than he really felt.

He wanted to say something to her, but his mind had gone blank. He glanced up from the seam he had been inspecting and caught her looking back at him, but she immediately lowered her eyes back down to the pendant in her hands. A few more silent moments went by, as Konstance shifted his position on the couch and Chayonna stared down at the pendant.

Konstance had to make several attempts to speak; the first few times, he couldn't get words to come out. He had meant to ask her about the interview, but the question came out slightly different than he had planned. "So... are you ready for tomorrow?"

Chayonna didn't look up, but her face reflected something between worry and anxiety. For a few tense moments, Konstance wondered if he had said the wrong thing or if she had even heard him at all, but then she quietly nodded her head. She closed her palm around the pendant and glanced up at Konstance. She looked different for some reason, like something was missing, and it took Konstance a moment to place it.

"What happened to your book?"

She blushed at this, then responded shyly, "I gave it to Jerome." She started picking at her uniform as she talked. "I thought his little brother would like it. He sounded like an interesting kid; Pines, I mean." She looked back up at Konstance, then shrugged her shoulders, adding softly, "It's a kid's book, anyway."

Konstance smiled at her. "That doesn't mean you can't still enjoy it. Honestly, I think the way those guys have been harassing you about it is more childish than reading any book. Anyway, I think Flash is more bark than bite if you know what I mean. Did you see that kid from District 3 knock him off his feet? To be fair, he was asking for it, but still..."

Chayonna's eyes lit up. "I know! I couldn't believe it! It looked like he broke his nose!" She put her hands together and brought them up to cover her face as she started a fit of giggling. She was beginning to open up now, and had put the pendant back in her pocket. "Oh! That reminds me, what about that guy from District 5? What did he say?"

Konstance paused for a moment, thinking back to the hunting station and the boy who had tripped the net trap. "I think he and the boy from District 6 are a team. He had kind of a temper, but don't underestimate him." His face began to fall as Konstance thought about the games. He knew what was expected of him, but he didn't know if he could kill these people. He began to drown in his dark thoughts, forgetting where he was as he imagined facing off against the boy from District 5. He involuntarily shuddered at the thought of the boy dying by his hand.

"Hey, are you okay?", Chayonna's concerned voice pierced his thoughts and brought him back. Konstance stared across at Chayonna's worried expression, unsure of where he was for a second. He looked down to see that his hands were trembling, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself down before looking back up at Chayonna

There was something that he had meant to ask her ever since he had seen her reaping on the Capitol-bound trail. Though she had volunteered, now that he had gotten to know her, it seemed to Konstance that she was about as thrilled to be here as he was. The games were made for people like Amagi, Flash, or even Cassida, but not the two of them. He knew the shameful truth of why he had volunteered, but he couldn't see Chayonna afflicted the same way. If not, then why had she volunteered?

He had just opened his mouth to ask her, when the door on his left opened and Brutus returned with Amagi in tow. His loud voice bellowed, "Okay, Konstance. Your turn. Come on, let's get this over with."

Konstance looked back over at Chayonna, who gave him one last sheepish smile, before Brutus dragged him away. The door closed, leaving Amagi and Chayonna alone in the quiet common room. The two stared at each other, then Chayonna went back to examining her pendant.

"So do they want you to be a ruthless killer too?" The sound of Amagi's voice was strange to Chayonna, who had not heard her say very much over the course of the training sessions. She looked up from the pendant to see Amagi smirking at her.

"No", Chayonna sighed in mild frustration. "They want me to pretend to be some sort of beautiful princess. To win over Capitol sponsors, I'm supposed to be a damsel in distress, which is pathetic. I think they're only saying it because I'm a girl."

"Hmm", Amagi had seemed to lose interest and crossed the room, opening the door that led up to the District 2 common room. At the last second, she turned around. "You're not really fooling anyone, you know that?"

"What?" Blood rushed to Chayonna's face, and her cheeks turned bright red. She had been thinking about Konstance, and was positive that Amagi was going to say something about the two of them.

Instead, Amagi gave her one of her sadistic smiles. "You're not a killer. You can swing a mace just fine, but when it comes right down to it, you just don't have what it takes. You may be part of our alliance, but you're not really one of us." As she finished this, she flashed Chayonna a surprisingly lighthearted grin before disappearing up the stairs.


	22. Chapter 20

"Alright! Let's get this thing started!"

Everyone sitting around the table looked up from their meal as Augustus Piper grandly entered the room. A few quickly dabbed their lips with napkins where various sauces had left their marks, as the head gamemaker made his way to his spot at the head of the table. The unexpected turn of events the previous night had caused him to rush around in a panic, attempting to fix the damage caused by some kind of wiring malfunction in the main security room, but things were finally quieting down. Though he had finally managed to get everything under control, among other things, it had caused him to show up late to the tribute evaluations. This, of course, had not stopped the other gamemakers from tearing into the appetizers. Augustus looked around the room with a judgmental stare, and nodded his head at each of them before taking his seat and clapping his hands together. "Okay! Summon the first tribute!"

They had been watching the tributes all throughout the previous days of training, in various stages of sobriety, and though the reserved Chayonna looked bashful and shy, they were not surprised when she proceeded to fend off several of the hand-to-hand combat trainers with a spiked mace. The gamemakers were impressed with her skill, but her shy demeanor caused them to award her an 8.

Flash followed her and, predictably, asked to fight one of the trainers with a spear. He fought hard and ruthlessly, as if his life depended on it, which, in the arena, it would. The gamemakers enjoyed the boy's showmanship, expertly employing feints and jabs, and all softly applauded him at the end. As Flash fought the trainer, there were a few jokes made about what kind of show they would see from the boy from District 3 who had punched him earlier. No conference was required to debate his score; however, for they had already decided beforehand that the boy deserved a 10.

The main course was served between the demonstrations of the District 2 tributes, Amagi Blade and Konstance Lowe. Again, the evaluations went as expected, save for a few surprising acrobatic moves by Amagi Blade. In one particularly awe-inspiring moment, Amagi threw herself through the air in a forward tumble, a katana in each hand. As she landed, she broke the guard of two separate trainers at the same time, who were each stunned by this spectacle. The gamemakers all gasped wonder, and a flurry of conversation began among them about which tributes should be placed on the pedestals next to her. Again, no conference was needed for the score, and the tributes were given their predetermined score of 11 and 10 respectively.

In his tenth straight years as gamemaker, Augustus was fairly sure that he had seen everything that a tribute could possibly do for evaluations, from performing skills at designated stations to fainting under the pressure of performance. One interesting year, an out-district tribute, he couldn't quite remember which one, had stood before them and had yelled profanities until they had gotten bored of his rants and had dismissed him. They had given him a 3 for his boldness.

When he saw a small, terrified Lisa Stillwater trembling as she trudged into the arena, Augustus was fairly sure that she would be one of the fainters. However, he was pleasantly surprised when the girl stopped in the doorway, collected herself, and walked purposefully into the room. As he saw that her destination was the survival station, though, his smile fell. Lisa grabbed the flint and steel and spent the rest of the time building a fire. Or, trying to, anyway. She couldn't quite get the flame to hold, and ended up bursting into tears when Augustus ended the session. As the bawling girl was escorted out of the room, Augustus conferred with the other gamemakers, and they unanimously agreed on awarding her a 1.

The next up was Michael Donovan, the boy who had beaten up the stocky District 1 tribute. The gamemakers actually stopped eating temporarily, and scrutinized the boy's actions, interested in what he would do. The gamemakers were hoping that he would show off his fighting abilities as he had with Flash, but were dismayed to find that he instead headed to the survival stations. A collective groan passed among the gamemakers as they proceeded to return to their meals, looking up only every once in a while to check on the boy, who was making his way through the survival skills with mediocre success. When he was done, they awarded him a 7, which is higher than he might have gotten had he not broken Flash's nose.

Next up was District 4. Cassida Callero, who preferred a sword, fought like a career tribute. After the comparatively weak displays of the District 3 tributes, the gamemakers decided that she had earned a 9. Following her was Tomas Waters, who was barely able to even hobble to the center of the room without falling over. Having been trained to fight, he wasn't a terrible swordsman, but his physical handicap and the fact that he came directly after Cassida's display caused the gamemakers to award him a 4.

Everyone had finished the main course by now and most were at least three drinks in, and the jokes came louder and more often. Augustus himself was on his sixth; the panic caused by the events from earlier were finally starting to fade into the background of his drunk, hazy stupor. Looking out over the training center floor, he saw it was empty. Realizing that he had forgotten to call the next tribute, he pressed the intercom button and called for District 5's Joule Tribble. They all watched the door, but Joule didn't appear.

Five minutes later, she still had not appeared.

Augustus rolled his eyes. Every couple of years there would be a no-show. Whether they had resigned to defeat or were trying to make a statement, it annoyed Augustus, who was now on his seventh drink. He was about to call in the male tribute when he noticed movement in the corner of his eye. He looked out at the center of the arena, where Joule Tribble was just standing there watching them. The sight truly shocked Augustus, who had been sure that he had been watching the entrance the entire time. How did she get out there?

He stared at the girl for a second, before realizing that this was what the girl had planned to show them. The girl simply stood there staring at them until Augustus dismissed her. It was clear that the other gamemakers were just as confused as he was, as none of them had seen her enter or walk to the center either, though admittedly they weren't paying that much attention in the first place. For a fairly impressive display of stealth, they awarded her a 7. Stealth could help you survive, but it can't win the games for you.

Augustus sighed. The alcohol was finally beginning to really take its effect as he relaxed and the world around him blurred. He was no longer worried about the technical difficulties they had been going through, and stopped trying to be so critical of the tributes. There was the boy from District 5, who decided to fight the trainers in hand-to-hand combat. He did well, but they all remembered Flash beating him down the previous day and awarded him a 6. Stella Pullman followed, going through almost the same process that Berton Wells had. She headed straight for the hand-to-hand station and had fought a trainer with knives. For the same performance, they decided to give her the same score.

Augustus smiled at this and leaned his chair back. He actually had some fighters this time. This was going to be a good year.

Kennedy Orloft followed, heading for the survival station. He had spent his entire training time working on snares, and it was no surprise that he went there for his evaluation as well. Augustus turned his attention back to the second course, which had just arrived. He only looked up when the gamemakers all burst out laughing. Scanning the training center, he saw that Kennedy had managed to coax one of the trainers into tripping a well-disguised trap he had built. Kennedy made a show of pointing and laughing as the trainer dangled by a single foot before being dismissed. The gamemakers were in such a good mood by this show that they decided to award him a solid 7.

Following Kennedy's lead, the next two tributes went straight for the survival station. Augustus sighed with disgust. Why was everyone so fascinated by the survival stations? Augustus only half watched, more preoccupied with how he could use this knowledge to challenge the tributes in the arena. In his intoxicated stupor, he imagined changing up the edible plants in the arena or flooding the entire arena. Let's see them survive that.

Without even really thinking, he accepted whatever score the other gamemakers agreed on for whatever tribute was showing survival skills. Violet Aster, Napoleon Vandergaard, and Emma Frisia received a 5 3, and 4 respectively. He lazily waved off Jonah Abagnale earning a 9 before realizing what they had said. He snapped back from his thoughts and barked accusingly, "Wait! A 9 for survival skills?"

All of the gamemakers stopped what they were doing, some frozen mid-bite, each unwilling to take responsibility for the decision. There was a silence among the gamemakers until one of them stepped up and dutifully responded, "He fought with a spear. He was good at it too; he seemed professionally trained."

August scowled. "District 8? Trained to fight?"

Seneca Crane nodded. Augustus should have guessed it. The experienced gamemaker, who was the least intoxicated of all of them, cared more about the spirit of the games than anything else. "Or he was a natural. But I assure you, he earned it."

Out of all the gamemakers, Seneca was the one that Augustus trusted the most. He seemed to have a true aptitude for gamemaking, and cared more about the idea of the games than just about anything else. The problem was that he took it almost too seriously. When Augustus finally decided to retire from his position, whether voluntarily or coerced, he was sure that Seneca Crane would most likely volunteer to be his successor. He only hoped that by that time, Seneca had realized the true nature of the games, or his duty to them would eventually be his downfall.

Augustus nodded. "Fine. I'll check the video feed later. Let's continue, shall we?"

Four more survivalists followed, which bored Augustus to no end. He had volunteered for this position because he believed in the honor of a tribute fighting to the death for his or her district. While he accepted survival as a necessary part of the games, to him it was more about fighting and getting your hands bloody, and his games always reflected it.

The District 9 and 10 tributes as well as District 11's Samantha Rice were each given scores of 4, having shown the gamemakers basically the same exact thing. The gamemakers had stopped really watching somewhere around District 6, and were all discussing how they could undermine the survival skills in the arena. Though each of them were drunk, they all enjoyed the break from survival skills when District 10's Jerome Acres called for a hand-to-hand combat trainer. The gamemakers all glanced up from their conversations briefly to catch a glimpse of the fight. Their slightly impaired judgement combined with the relief of finally seeing some action for a change caused them to award him a slightly exaggerated score of 10.

The score sparked a heated discussion of what would happen if the two tributes who had scored 10 were pitted against each other. They were so involved in the discussion that they didn't even see either tributes from District 12 enter, perform, or exit. They were too drunk and relieved for the evaluations to finally be over to worry about it. Instead of reviewing the tapes or checking with the trainers, they went ahead and assumed that they probably did something survival related and awarded Courtney McCarthy and Winston Fellows both a 4 on principle.


	23. Chapter 21

As the lights brightened and the Capitol anthem blared, Chayonna Davis was a nervous wreck. The audience cheered as Caesar took the stage to host the annual tribute interviews, but the noise caused Chayonna to shrink into her chair as she rolled her pigtails through her fingers. Now that the event was upon her, she regretted not practicing more, though even if she had been given another week to prepare, she probably still wouldn't have been ready. At the very front end of the line of tributes waiting to take the stage, she wished that she could at least see someone go in front of her. Though she had seen plenty of tribute interviews on television before, there were all sorts of ways to mess up and she would have gone through them in her mind if not for the fact that just then, Caesar called her to the stage.

"As usual, ladies first. Citizens of the Capitol, please give a warm welcome to our volunteer from District 1: Chayonna Davis!" With this, he stood and grandly gestured behind him, where the figure of Chayonna Davis stood and approached. The audience let out a gasp as they caught sight of her bright red dress, which was encrusted with rubies and emeralds that created dazzling green and red flashes as they caught the radiant light of the stage lamps. Chayonna's face was about as red as her dress as Caesar kissed her on the cheek and motioned for her to sit in the available chair.

Chayonna calmed herself, though her face remained flushed scarlet as she sat down.

Caesar flashed his iconic smile at the audience, then addressed the bashful girl before them. "So Chayonna, how are you? You certainly look excited to be here!"

Chayonna was temporarily paralyzed by the thought of Capitolites scrutinizing her, and was relieved that their attention was temporarily diverted as a clip of the opening ceremony played across the screens, featuring her giddy and jumping in excitement as she waved at the crowd. The image of herself in the chariot displayed for all of Panem broke the fragile facade of calm she had managed to scrape together and she was once again flooded with embarrassment.

Instead of answering Caesar's greeting out loud, Chayonna just nodded her head vigorously in his direction, unable to look into his eyes or out at the crowd. Caesar picked up on her discomfort and attempted to direct the interview somewhere that she would feel less vulnerable. Bringing the attention off of her for a second, he brought up Brodus instead.

"So your brother won the 57th Hunger games." He said it as a statement. He stopped here and faced the crowd, appealing to them, "We all remember little Brody, right?"

The audience applauded in assent as a clip of Chayonna's brother making his final kill played across the screens. Chayonna remembered exactly where she had been during that particular event. She had been in her bed with the sheets pulled up over her head, afraid to even watch for fear that it might somehow change the outcome. Terrified that she was going to lose her brother forever, she was prepared to give anything to bring him back, as annoying and stubborn as he could be sometimes.

She didn't let this show, however, as she suddenly remembered that both Brodus and her father must be watching her right now. Distance from her father had allowed her to loosen up a bit, but the crisp memory of the rigorous training he had imposed upon her latched on, hooked her and dragged her back into reality. Her embarrassment was now gone, substituted with an acute awareness of her current situation. It was just in time, because Caesar had brought the conversation around to the fact that she volunteered.

The audience laughed as the image of her smacking her brother on the head with her book appeared, but she expertly played it off as an inside joke that the two had. She knew what her father would expect her to say and she didn't disappoint him. By the end of her interview, the crowd adored the loveable Chayonna Davis.

They applauded dutifully as Chayonna returned to her seat and was replaced by her district partner. Already in a good mood, the crowd warmed quickly to Flash's outgoing attitude and flamboyant enthusiasm. He only had one angle, but he played it for all it was worth. Where Chayonna had gone for adoration, Flash went for duty and honor.

"I'm ready Caesar. I've been waiting for this my whole life, and now it's here." He flashed a smile at the audience, then looked directly at the cameras. "Thanks to all the people of District 1 who supported me, I won't let you down."

Flash began the interview with inspiring comments of how strong and prepared he was, but the display quickly lost its novelty and turned bland as it became apparent that this was basically his only approach. Caesar attempted to redirect the interview to more interesting areas, such as his family or personal experiences, but Flash stubbornly refused to follow, always bringing the interview right back to more or less the same topic. Though Caesar continued to prompt him, Flash kept repeating different variations of the same thing: how strong he was and how ready he was to kill the people standing just behind him.

It was a testament to Caesar's skill at hosting that he was able to fill up the entire three minutes, by either inserting his own jokes and comments into the gaps or rephrasing what Flash told him to make it sound more interesting and appealing to the audience.

As Chayonna watched Flash, she realized that he and Brodus were cut from the same mold. Everything from Flash's duty-bound honor to the way he pestered her about the book reminded Chayonna of him. It was an interesting insight to the boy that she might have overlooked otherwise. She closed her eyes and just listened to Flash answer Caesar's questions, and she was brought back to the memory of watching Brodus on the television three years ago. She had watched as he cut through several of other tributes, most of whom were defenseless.

Chayonna opened her eyes as the memory of her brother shattered. This was the side of her brother that she never really thought about. He, like Flash, had been disillusioned to basic humanism by the impression of honor. Though he had been welcomed home as a hero, Chayonna realized that Brodus was really no more than a glorified murderer. As Flash continued to boldly confess to his pre-meditated crimes, the Capitolites cheered him on. Flash was so high on the Capitol's attention that he looked visibly distraught when his time was up, though he continued to wave and howl back at the crowd as he returned to his seat.

Amagi followed Flash, bold and confident, cruising in on the tail end of the Capitol's cheers for Flash. As she sat down next to Caesar, before she had even said a word, the air of calm, cold indifference about her had commanded the respect of those around her, in some ways more so than Flash's gallant macho man routine.

As the crowd began to settle down, Caesar addressed the girl from District 2. "So, Amagi. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we're all a little excited to see what the girl who scored an 11 can do." He turned to the audience, suddenly exuberant, yelling, "Am I right, folks?" The crowd let out a burst of cheering as Caesar turned back to face Amagi, who had now donned her infamous lighthearted grin.

"Well, Caesar, you're just going to have to wait until the arena for that. I wouldn't want to spoil anything, now would I?" Amagi's eyes flashed dangerously as her lighthearted grin broadened. She was having fun with this.

Caesar laughed, and the audience followed suit. "My dear! You mustn't torture us so! But I suppose every girl is entitled to her secrets. Though I must say that we expect much from someone whose family has had so much success in the Games!"

The screen behind them split into two sides. One side showed her father as he simultaneously fended off a giant scorpion mutt and the last remaining tribute to become the victor of the 47th Hunger Games. The opposite side showed her sister in the Games three years ago, slicing her way through the bloodbath. Though she had topped the leaderboard in kills, her hubris eventually caught up to her when she found herself impaled by a spear thrown by one of the out-district tributes.

Amagi's lighthearted grin disappeared as she remembered the scene. The camera had not cut away as Roline's life slowly drained out of her. She had managed to take revenge on the boy who attacked her, but the damage had already been done. It wasn't a clean death, and she lay on the ground sputtering and gasping for life for nearly fifteen minutes before her cannon finally sounded. Because it had occurred during mandatory viewing hours, Amagi had been forced to watch every second of it.

Though she was a master of keeping her emotions in check, she couldn't help but blame her sister. She should have known better! She should have been more careful!

After Roline's death, the training that her father imposed on her became more rigorous and cruel. Her pain and sorrow began to manifest itself in determination to avenge Roline at any cost and to prove to her father that she could become a victor.

Amagi's determination surfaced now, in front of the audience and Caesar, as she watched her family fight on the screens overhead. The screens faded to black as Caesar leaned in and asked, "Your sister wore that same pendant when she was reaped, did she not?"

Amagi brought her eyes down to the red ruby necklace she was wearing. Her face had donned a new, colder demeanor, a dark fire burning deep within her eyes. Amagi responded in a cold, calculated tone. "Yes. She did." She looked up from the necklace and deep into Caesar's cheery eyes. "It was supposed to give me courage to volunteer. Courage to fight- to win the games, and I intend on doing just that." Nobody could have opposed the calm certainty in which she uttered this statement. As Amagi stared up at Caesar, the buzzer sounded, signaling that her three minutes were up, adding adding a nice dramatic touch.

The lighthearted smile returned to Amagi's face as she stood up with Caesar, and they both turned to face the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Amagi Blade!"


	24. Chapter 22

Following the small, mysterious figure of Amagi Blade was the large, dominating figure of Konstance Lowe, radiating the impression of force with every step. Dressed in a silver sparkled white suit, he was shimmering as he sat down opposite Caesar.

After proper greetings, Caesar jumped right in. "How are you feeling about the Games tomorrow?"

Konstance knew how he felt about the spirit of the Games, and wanted everyone to know that he was more than the Capitol's pawn, but also knew that most of his sponsors were expecting him to be confident and tough. He was torn by cognitive dissonance, and paused, choosing the right words, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Finally, he decided to avoid his own thoughts on the subject temporarily until a better opportunity presented itself.

He looked at Caesar, then out over the crowd before deciding to vaguely mock Flash. "It's good, Caesar. I'm ready."

The crowd had clearly been expecting more enthusiasm from the boy, and were slightly let down by his calm demeanor, but Caesar swept in and pulled the crowd back. "The strong, silent type. I love it! Don't you all, folks?"

The crowd applauded approvingly, now seeing Konstance from this new point of view. Caesar smiled broadly, inviting the crowd to do so as well, then turned back to Konstance.

"So we all have great expectations for you. District 2 has had a substantial number of victors, and we wouldn't be too surprised if we had one more this year. Tell me, Konstance, how do you feel about your chances in the arena?"

Konstance could see that Caesar was trying to redirect the conversation to the fighting, as most people would expect the conversation with a District 2 volunteer to go. Flash would have excelled on this topic, but it was truly the last thing that Konstance wanted to think about, let alone talk about while his family and friends were watching.

The thought of his family and friends gave him an idea. He looked back at Caesar, a knowing expression now spreading across his face. "I'm as prepared as I'll ever be, and I'd like to thank my family and friends for supporting me!" Konstance looked directly into the cameras at this comment, his smile never cracking to show the true indignant feelings he currently had toward them. "They're the reason I decided to volunteer!"

The crowd ate this up, but Konstance knew that his family would get the real message. He had, in fact, volunteered because of them. If they had not alienated him so much, he never would have even considered it. He had volunteered so that they would not have to deal with him anymore, and he wanted them to know it. Subconsciously, all he wanted was to be understood, for them to care enough to truly try to understand him, but it was far too late for that now. Though he continued his cries for help, there was no stopping this train at it careened toward the perilous cliff ahead.

"Are you with us, Konstance?"

Konstance shook his head as a trapdoor suddenly opened in his thoughts and deposited him rather uncomfortably back into the chair on the stage. "What? Sorry."

"I was asking if you wanted to tell us about that ring. It seems to be of importance to you. Is it from a girl back home?"

Konstance looked down. He hadn't noticed until now that he had brought the gold band out of his pocket and was now holding it out for the world to see. Bethany was surely watching now. He remembered Bethany's distress when she had come to visit him. He remembered how awkward it was when he had to face her that day. How much he wanted to be anywhere else but in that room...

NO! He willed himself not to get lost in thoughts again. This was probably the last chance he would get to apologize to Bethany. His mind gripped onto reality and refused to let go as he turned to Caesar, who was watching him expectantly.

"Beth. Yea, you could say she's special. She's always been there for me. It took me a long time to realize it, but I know it now. I don't think I ever told her how much she meant to me, but Bethany, if you're out there watching this, I'm thankful for you; for everything you've done for me. I don't know what I did to deserve you in my life, but I'm grateful for every moment I've ever spent with you; even the ones that weren't so happy."

There was a collective sigh from the lovestruck audience. They were heartbroken for boy who finally got the courage to admit his feelings to a girl back home. Konstance didn't exactly see Bethany as a girlfriend, but he didn't mind the audience thinking that. More importantly, he wanted Bethany to know how sorry he now was for what his actions, however desperate they had been, had done to her on that cold, rainy day back in District 2.

He now found himself at a loss for words, and Caesar picked up the interview, careful to retain the audience's fondness for Konstance. He softly added, "And when you win. What do you plan on doing when you get back to District 2?"

Konstance was in thought now, but he had rooted himself into reality. He no longer cared what his sponsors thought, only of what Bethany saw. "I don't even care about the money. If I win this thing, I'd give it all away to those who need it more than me. I'd be happy enough just to get back home." He paused, then, to add emphasis, he added, "and to see Beth again."

The crowd erupted into cheers as he finished this statement. If they weren't on his side before, they were now. They may have a slightly skewed interpretation about his relationship with Bethany than what truly was, but the Capitol audience understood enough about his emotional depth to see him not as "the tribute from District 2", but as Konstance Lowe, real and whole, and he really couldn't have asked for much more than that.

His time now up, Konstance Lowe bowed to the audience, then shook Caesar's hand before heading back to his seat. Behind him, Lisa Stillwater slowly and meekly shuffled across the stage toward Caesar. In contrast to Konstance's bold, forceful appearance, the girl looked tiny and brittle, but Caesar greeted her with the same exuberance as the previous tributes.

The nervous Lisa was visibly trembling under the hot stage lights and the scrutinizing gazes of the Capitolite audience. Her mentor had advised her to be bouncy and cheerful, but now that she was on the spot, her nerves had severed any control she had concerning her outward appearance. She managed to make it across the stage to Caesar, but the pressure was almost too much for her to handle.

Sensing this, Caesar reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. Softly, only loud enough for her to hear, he whispered, "Relax. You're going to be fine." He smiled down warmly at the girl, and gently guided her into the chair. Lisa shrank down into her seat, and the flowing yellow gown she was wearing seemed to swallow her up.

Caesar had dealt with many girls like this, nervous and afraid, in his time working for the Games, and started Lisa off with a couple of small, easy questions.

"So you've been here for a couple of days. What would you say is your favorite part about the Capitol so far?"

Lisa, picking at her dress and staring down at the floor, was only able to manage a slight squeak at first, but she eventually managed to find her voice. "Well... the food is nice."

Caesar clapped his hands together and laughed merrily, joking about how they must be serving her something different than the nasty stuff that they keep serving him. He held his nose up and pinched it in mock disgust, and the audience laughed at his ridiculous display.

As Caesar kept tossing softballs to Lisa, she began to open up, eventually segueing from the food of the Capitol to a special chicken and dumpling stew that she and her mother used to cook up for her brother and father on special occasions.

"Your mother must be a wonderful cook!", Caesar marveled.

"Oh, yes. She's great, but I'm still learning", Lisa blushed. Her voice was still shaky, but she was starting to enjoy herself. She launched into a story about how she once mistook salt for sugar when making a batch of cherry-filled pastries. She didn't find out her mistake until her brother took a huge bite out of one and almost vomited it back up. Lisa giggled at the memory. "They were so bad that when we threw them out, even the birds wouldn't eat them!"

The audience laughed along with her, and she began to loosen up, her nervousness vanishing away. Caesar masterfully directed the interview, keeping the focus on her and subjects that she would be able to manage. He never brought up her training score or how she had wept during her reaping, but kept the interview on topics that put her in a good light.

The once frail and nervous Lisa was now laughing along with Caesar and the audience. By the time the buzzer went off, she could easily have been confused for any of the Capitol girls running around on the streets. Lisa giggled again when Caesar leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, wishing her the best of luck.

As Lisa skipped back to her seat, then daintily sat down, the audience began to stir restlessly. Caesar stood up to introduce Mikey, but was only halfway through announcing Michael Donovan to the stage when he was drowned out by the crowd. Somewhere near the back, a rhythmic chant started that quickly spread across the entire audience until everyone was chanting.

Mikey, who had been walking up to the stage, was taken by surprise, and the force of the energy stopped him in his tracks. As he listened to the simple chant, he tried to discern the words they were yelling. It took him a moment to realize that they were alluding to his father.

Suddenly thoroughly embarrassed, Mikey smiled sheepishly as he approached Caesar, all the while, the crowd chanting, "RON DON! RON DON! RON DON! RON DON!"


	25. Chapter 23

As Mikey walked up to Caesar for his interview, the crowd continued their thunderous chant in reference to Ronald Donovan. Hundreds of Capitolites held up gadgets blinking various colored lights in different patterns, making the crowd seem strung in miles of cheesy Christmas lights.

Mikey had always thought the rumors of his father's success and popularity were exaggerated, but standing in front of this crowd, he realized that, if anything, the rumors had not been exaggerated enough. He felt like his feet were encased in concrete blocks as he slowly trudged toward Caesar and into a fresh round of cheering that he didn't believe that he deserved

Mikey stood sheepishly on the stage as Caesar got the crowd to settle down. He motioned for Mikey to sit, then started, "Well, Michael, it seems that you have quite the following."

Before he could stop himself, Mikey responded, "It's Mikey. Call me Mikey."

The audience collectively sighed at the adorable son of one of the Capitol's favorite celebrities. Caesar smiled, "Very well. So, Mikey, we know all about your father." He had to pause here and wait for the cheers to subside. "but we're here to talk about you. "

Mikey steeled himself, afraid that Caesar would bring up how his father had rioted against the peacekeepers during his reaping or how, although training sessions were supposed to be kept secret, he had spent half of it in a recovery room. However, Caesar kept the tone light, making allusions between him and his father whenever possible, so that the people who were in love with Ronald Donovan would extend their support to Mikey as well.

As Mikey warmed up to Caesar, the two worked well together. As the interview went on, Mikey was just a surprised to find that many of the devices that he had created were now Capitol favorite items as the Capitolites were to discover that these devices, that they had assumed were created by Mr. Donovan, were mostly designed by the kid sitting on stage in front of them.

The buzzer went off just as Mikey finished explaining that his district token, a small metal gear from the first machine they had built together, was to keep his father with him in spirit though he would be alone in the arena. This sealed the deal, effectively converting all of Ronald Donovan's collective Capitolite fans into rallying to support his son in his most desperate hour.

Mikey thanked Caesar, then turned to thank the crowd, that now exploded into another round of chanting, which had morphed into "RON DON'S SON! RON DON'S SON!" Mikey blushed as he turned to leave the spotlight. The chanting dissolved into applause and cheering as Mikey returned to his spot and Caesar called Cassida Callero to the stage.

Cassida sprang up and bounded out to Caesar, basking in the remnants of Mikey's applause that blended into a new round of applause for her. Caesar was about to welcome Cassida with a kiss on the cheek, but she beat him to the punch. She jumped forward and kissed the surprised host's cheek, before flopping down into the interview seat. Caesar held both hands to his cheek as if he had just been touched by an angel, then turned to the crowd. "Isn't she sweet, folks?"

A few whoops and whistles came from the crowd and the ever-jovial host took his seat across from Cassida. He began the interview by asking her about volunteering.

Cassida shrugged. "We've all got to do something with our lives, right? It's that or roll over and die. I figure I'd have a little fun with it before that happens." As she said this, she grasped her district token, a shark tooth strung around her neck, and held it up to Caesar.

Taking the hint, Caesar inquired about it.

"Oh this little thing?" Cassida grabbed the tooth and laughed. Nonchalantly, she responded, "It's no big deal, really. They pulled it out of my leg after I fought off a shark, and I decided I might as well keep it."

Caesar gasped dramatically. "My dear! A shark? You must give us the details!"

Cassida launched into a dramatic tale of how she had run into a shark one day when she had been cliff diving off the rocky outcrops of one of the bays in District 4. She told the story with the practiced bravado of a stage actor who has played the role a thousand times and had long since memorized the best places to accent the story with gestures or to pause dramatically. The real story, however, was a little less heroic. The shark had been startled and would have swum away if Cassida hadn't grabbed it by the tail to keep it from escaping. The shark had only nipped her out of self-defense, though Cassida tended to exaggerate this particular detail. If Caesar had any doubts about the story, he didn't show it, acting as surprised at every twist and gasping at the climax of the story. As she finished her valiant tale, Caesar expression reflected the audience's shock.

"So it's fair to say that you're a survivor?"

Cassida leaned forward, dropping her tone. "Caesar, nothing can stop a Callero." She sat back and gave him her distinctive innocent, childish smile.

"My dear, after that story, I believe it!" Caesar's bright eyes now moved from her to the audience. "Don't you think so too, folks!" The crowd cheered with Caesar's enthusiasm until Cassida's buzzer rang out.

As her time expired, she stood up smiling and blew several kisses out into the audience, many members of whom were absolutely certain that she was blowing it to them personally. Cassida was ecstatic with the attention as she floated back to her seat. She had intended on giving Tomas a playful shove as he made his way to the stage, but Tomas did not give her the chance.

Having learned his lesson from their time on in the chariots, he decided to wait until she was sitting down before making his way down to Caesar. He had spent that past few days with his mentor practicing a manner of walking that hid his limp and had gotten quite good at it. As he made his way to Caesar, he hardly looked any different from those before him who had been hindered by stage fright.

Tomas confidently greeted Caesar, then the audience, before taking his seat. He sat tall in his formal black tuxedo that featured a gold pin that bore the crest of District 4. He smiled broadly out at the audience, his remarkably white teeth glowing in the bright light.

Caesar smiled back and started, "So, I've heard that you are a sabreur, is this correct?"

Tomas's impossibly wide grin somehow grew wider. "Oh, absolutely, Caesar. I placed third in the school tournament this year. Frank beat me in the semi-final, but he's graduating this year. I sure I would have won it next year."

Though this was all true, he neglected to mention that the fencing tournament occurred before the incident with the peacekeepers that crippled his left leg. After a brief pause, Tomas added thoughtfully, "I suppose this is even better, though. Now I've got the chance to show that I'm the best fighter out of all the districts, not just District 4."

"Absolutely! That's the kind of fighting spirit we like to see!" chimed Caesar and the audience applauded in approval.

Tomas avoided any talk of his family, and Caesar didn't push it. Instead, Tomas talked about the spirited competitions that he and his friends actively engaged in, making sure to accentuate how hard he worked and how poorly he viewed failure.

He even managed to get a shot off on Cassida by naming her as one of the "competitions" that he was actively engaged in. As he said this, he looked back at Cassida and gave her a seductive wink. The cameras briefly jumped to Cassida, who scrunched her face up and stuck her tongue out at him. However, it didn't seem to faze Tomas; he knew that there was nothing she could do about it.

Tomas just smiled back, as if this were all part of the game that he was playing as the buzzer went off, signaling that his three minutes of interview time were up. For a few awkward seconds, Tomas just continued to sit in his chair, staring at Caesar as he shifted in his seat.

Though he was trying not to make a scene of it, Tomas was struggling stand, unable to find a way to put weight on his left leg so that he wouldn't stumble and fall over. Seeing this, Caesar speedily offered him a hand, making it look like a good-mannered gentlemanly gesture rather than the helping hand to a handicapped boy that it actually was. Caesar managed to spin it off as a victorious gesture by taking the boy's hand and holding it up grandly into the air as he dismissed Tomas from the stage. As Tomas sat down, Caesar encouraged the audience to show their appreciation for the first tribute from District 5.

Joule stood up at the sound of her name and wandered down toward Caesar like a traveler lost in a foreign land, unable to read any of the signs posted in a strange language. Her eyes wandered across the crowd, then fixed on something near the overhead stage lamps as Caesar greeted her and asked for her to sit down.

High up in the sky box, Augustus Piper stared down at the strange girl from District 5. He was hoping to get another glimpse of her disappearing act, and was disappointed when he didn't get to see it. There was something that bothered him about this strange girl, but he couldn't quite place it. He always liked to have an idea of how his tributes thought and didn't particularly like not having an idea of what was going on in her head.

The small girl had her flaming red hair pulled back into elaborate spiraling braids, though she wanted nothing more than to let it all fall and hide her face from the audience. Though it was Joule's interview, it was Caesar who ended up doing most of the talking, though the way he did it, you would never have known unless you were paying attention to it.

Joule was paralyzingly shy, and only answered questions in single syllables or with head gestures if she could manage it. The few words that she did say didn't usually make sense or seemed out of context with what Caesar was saying, but Caesar expertly played her answers off as mysterious and had meanings so poetic or complex that he and the audience by proxy, couldn't comprehend.

After playing this game with her for around two minutes,

Joule lightly responded, "This could be paradise."

"So you're enjoying your stay in the Capitol?" Caesar laughed along with the audience. "Well we try to be gracious hosts."

Instead of her usual strangely vague response, her voice sharpened and her eyes focused as she stuttered, "No... the poor districts... Capitol ... could be paradise."

Augustus Piper, who had only really been half listening, abruptly sat up in his seat as he realized what the girl was saying; that she was trying to make a pointed political statement. He swiftly crossed the balcony, where the various lights and sounds were being controlled and pushed aside one of the technicians. He flipped a switch on the console, sounding the buzzer and ending Joule's interview nearly forty-five seconds early.

For a brief second, Caesar looked confused, then shot a glance up to the balcony where Augustus was firmly nodding to him. The audience was showing a similar reaction, though it faded as Caesar assured them that her interview time had indeed expired and that it was time for the next tribute.

Back in the gamemakers' box, Augustus let out a worried sigh as he wiped the sweat off his brow. Though it was advertised as live feed, the interview was running on a five-second delay to the districts. He could only hope that the editing staff had caught it as well and had censored it with an audio glitch. He didn't want to even think of what President Snow would have done to him if something like that got out.


	26. Chapter N

This is happening. This is actually happening. To me. Right now.

When all the tributes had been loaded onto the hovercraft and the tracker had been injected into his arm, Mikey had been able to fend off the harsh feeling, but now that he was here and the moment was upon him, he was beginning to panic. He was taking short, quick breaths now and the world was starting to spin. He was afraid he might vomit as he stepped forward and onto the platform that would become his pedestal in the arena. What an awful first impression that would make.

This is it, he thought. There is no turning back now.

The glass canister closed behind him and sealed off with a soft hiss. Then, the floor rumbled and began rising. He stumbled for a second, then braced himself on the smooth glass walls to regain his balance as the pedestal began to move him upward toward the arena.

When he neared the top, a hatch in the ceiling peeled open, and a burst of some hot gas poured down into his holding cell. At first, he feared that he was being poisoned or suffocated, but as he adjusted to it, he realized that he was still breathing air, but it was so saturated with water that it made it difficult to breathe. Mikey briefly thought of the kid from seven who was wheezing even before subjected to this. The air was so humid that he felt like he was breathing through a wet rag. Mikey was still trying to get used to the change in atmosphere when the elevator stopped, and the glass walls receded.

The blinding rays of the mid-afternoon sun lit up the landscape all around them, which was more or less what they had witnessed on the computer screen a few days before. There was a grassy clearing, consisting of mostly neatly mown grass mixed with the occasional knee-high sprig, encircling the cornucopia and pedestals, stretching for a few meters behind each, then disappearing abruptly into a much more alien dark green undergrowth. Now that he was here, he could see that the dark and foreboding nature of the jungle had clearly been designed to keep tributes in the clearing for as long as possible.

He could not see far past the edge of the jungle, but he fought the apprehensive feeling with the knowledge he had gained earlier about the arena. He moved his attention to the cornucopia and tried to orient himself. Examining the cornucopia, he encountered a stroke of luck. The mouth of the cornucopia was to his left, but the entire structure curled around clockwise and the tail was pointing to the jungle behind him and slightly to the left.

At that moment, Mikey formed his strategy. He would gather the bare supplies just in front of him, then he would head for the woods behind him. It was a simple enough plan, but he worried about Joule and Stella. Scanning the pedestals in his field of vision, he could not see Joule. She must be on a pedestal opposite of him, blocked by the cornucopia.

Jerome was far away from him, and he was glad of it. The boy from District 11 was one of the people he did not want to get in the way of. Jerome and a girl two pedestals to his right, which he recognized as the other tribute from District 11, were exchanging glances.

Continuing his search, Mikey found Stella to his left. She was three pedestals down and was looking at something behind him with a horrified look on her face. Mikey was confused for a second, then followed her gaze over his shoulder. On the pedestal directly to his right was Flash Adams. He was looking directly at Mikey, a fire burning in his eyes. Flash was red in the face and his crooked smile indicated to Mikey that it had little to do with the temperature.

Flash had been waiting for this moment since his fight with Mikey in the training center. When he was raised into the arena, he had immediately searched the pedestals for the boy. When he saw that Mikey had been placed next to him, he had clapped his hands together in excitement. Certainly the gamemakers had seen their quarrel in the training center and had set them up like this on purpose. He couldn't have asked for a better setup. He would be able to deal with the boy, then have plenty of time to get back to the bloodbath.

When Flash saw that he had Mikey's attention, he began punching his fist into his other hand and pointed at the boy who had showed him up during training. Then he slowly drew his index finger across his neck in the universal sign of imminent death. He wanted to make sure the boy knew that he was about to get what he deserved now that he didn't have the peacekeepers to protect him.

The other career tributes were adopting similar strategies, but with less specific targets. When Konstance had risen from the depths to his pedestal, he was still brooding about his situation. His first instinct had been to find Berton, the boy from District 5. He was afraid that he would have to fight the boy himself, but was relieved when he saw him across and to the left from where he was standing. Though Berton was one pedestal over from Flash, Konstance let out a sigh of relief when he noticed that it didn't really matter, because Flash was too occupied with the boy who had foolishly decided to provoke him earlier to notice Berton.

Konstance closed his eyes and shook off the feeling. Why did he care? He should be worried about his teammates or about himself. He glanced down and noticed that he once again was picking at the gold band that Bethany had left for him back in District 2. Had that only been a few days ago? It felt like much longer.

Konstance began to think about Bethany, and it made him angry. He was angry at himself, angry at his situation, and angry at everyone in his life whom he felt thought he was worthless. A pool of molten rage that he did not know he had been harboring began to build up in his stomach as he thought about his family and his awful situation.

Looking around him, Konstance began to see the faces of his step-siblings in the eyes of the other tributes. To his left and right were Presley and Grace Ward, and it made him even more angry. The blame and hatred that he had been directing inward began to reverse itself, as Konstance aimed the anger at the people around him. Attacking them didn't make sense to the logical part of his brain, but that area of his brain had diminished substantially and, in its place, pure rage was taking root. He didn't care who was in the way. He was angry at the world and at his situation and he was tired of trying to hold it in and hide it.

Chayonna glanced over at Konstance and, noticing that he had gone into a great concentrating trance, it made her once again doubt herself. She surveyed her teammates and saw that each of them were preparing in their own ways. Konstance was focusing himself, Cassida was jumping up and down in anticipation, Flash had already picked out his first target, and Amagi, who was the nearest to her, had crouched, assuming some form of runners' stance. Everyone looked prepared for this moment except for her.

Chayonna had trained for years leading up to this moment. All the skills and talent she needed were there, but now that she was actually here in the arena- that it was real- she wasn't sure if she could really do it. Swinging a mace into a sandbag and hurtling knives at wooden targets was one thing, but she wasn't sure that she was ready to take a human life. An actual living, breathing human's life.

Chayonna had spent a majority of her life reading fantasy books, and many of the stories she read contained epic battles of some kind or another. While reading, she had always envisioned herself mixed up in the fray, a dauntless hero of the war torn battlefields. During her many journeys through The Annals of Loria, she had always imagined herself beside Hans as he fought the anthropomorphic wolf. In her mind, the wolf launches itself at a terrified Hans and, just before the creature's razor lined jaws sink themselves into Hans, she jumps in and saves him. She slays the wolf with whatever weapon she had been practicing with that day and the astonished Hans is so grateful to her for saving his life that he gives her a kiss on the cheek for the effort.

The problem was that her enemies here were not foul anthropomorphic wolves and this was not a magical world where evil needed to be stopped. These were all people that Chayonna didn't believe truly deserved to die.

Standing on her pedestal, looking out over the grassy plain, she moved her gaze from one tribute to the next. She glimpsed Lisa, a terrified 12-year old, Napoleon, who had his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, Tomas, the boy with the bad leg and crooked smile, and all the others she had met in the past few days. In the end, she wasn't really sure if she could kill any of these people when the time came.

She found that she was terrified of the fact.

In that moment, Chayonna came to the shocking realization that she was a coward. She suddenly knew that she would do anything necessary to avoid harming any of these people, risking anything or anyone to do so. She would run away; she would fall down and pretend to be dead; she would lift her hands up in surrender. It didn't matter. She would do whatever it took to avoid fighting, and she would be more than happy to do so.

She was surprised to find that she was not ashamed of this finding. In fact, she found that she was actually quite at ease now that she had embraced the cold hard truth.

She was a coward.

Chayonna let out a deep breath, finally able to relax, and allowed her mind to go blank. She let all the expectations go, both of her brother's and her father's, and found that it was a great relief to let the tension float merrily away, like a ribbon released into the breeze. She had finally decided that she was not going to participate in the bloodbath when the gong went off.


	27. Chapter N plus 1

By far, the first person off the pedestal was Amagi Blade. She had been closely watching the clock tick down, and had sprung from her pedestal a second and a half early. She flew through the air, curling into a ball and bringing her legs up to her chest. The gong sounded just before her feet touched the ground, and she tucked and rolled onto the field in a move that she had practiced a thousand times. She came up with a katana in one hand and a knife in the other, then turned around and faced the row of tributes before anyone else had even moved.

She took several short, swift strides toward the tribute who had been standing next to her just moments before. With a single, quick swipe of her katana, the boy was on the ground and bleeding out after taking only two steps into the arena. Winston Fellows was dead before most tributes had even left their pedestals.

Jerome was the only tribute within sight of this display that had not been in some form stunned by it. He was concentrating on only three things: a pack, a machete, and Samantha. He gained a sort of tunnel vision, and did not even look at the faces of the tributes he shoved out of the way to get there.

Three pedestals down, Samantha Rice had the same idea. She could not see Amagi and had been off the pedestal at the sound of the gong. She was ten meters from her pedestal when she was intercepted by Cassida Callero. Samantha had been focusing on Jerome and her goal so intensely that she had not even seen her coming. Cassida tackled Samantha and the two girls rolled across the grassy field.

Samantha was on her feet first, but Cassida had picked up a sword somewhere and Samantha was forced to dodge a thrust from an adrenalized Cassida. Samantha was thrown off balance by the dodging movement, but was able to grab Cassida's wrist before she could get another strike in. The two were of equal strength as they both struggled for dominance in a brutish stalemate. Samantha was focused on prying the sword out of Cassida's hands, and had succeeded in pulling her index and middle fingers off, when Cassida promptly stomped her heel down on Samantha's knee. Taking the full blow without resistance, Samantha's knee collapsed, bending down and back at an unnatural angle. Samantha screamed in an alarmingly high falsetto, then immediately released Cassida's hand and fell to the ground, her leg no longer able to support her weight.

On the other side of the cornucopia, Mikey had adopted a new strategy that consisted of forgetting about the supplies entirely and running at full speed in whatever direction would put as much distance as possible between him and Flash Adams. Mikey had turned his back to the cornucopia, and when the gong went off, he bolted for the dark jungle in the hope that Flash would be too preoccupied with the bloodbath to pursue him.

This turned out not to be the case.

Flash grabbed the first weapon he came to, a small, sleek sword, and pursued the boy. He caught up to Mikey just before the edge of the treeline and threw him to the ground. Mikey tried to get back to his feet, but was blocked by the sole of Flash's boots landing solidly on his chest, holding him down. All Mikey could do was hold up his hand in defense as Flash swung his sword down, the silvery blade gleaming off of the sunlight as it dropped toward him.

Unlike her fellow career teammates, who seemed to know what they were doing, Chayonna was in shock. In some part of her mind, she had convinced herself that this wasn't happening, that this wasn't real. She had been watching Amagi with awe and was only now stepping off her pedestal.

It had not even occurred to her to help.

Now Amagi was approaching her, katana in hand, slicing through anyone who was foolish enough to get within range. Amagi shoved the hilt of a knife into Chayonna's trembling hand, oblivious to her resignation, and proceeded to yell at her, shocking her out of her numb state of mind.

"Watch my back!", Amagi shouted at Chayonna, then pulled her forward and both entered the fray. As Chayonna struggled to keep up with Amagi, she could hear a high falsetto scream rising out above the others.

Samantha was on the ground screaming as Cassida repeatedly pumped her heel like a pneumatic piston into the injured knee over and over and over. Each time her heel struck Samantha's crumpled leg, Cassida yelled in excitement.

"YEA! TAKE THAT! YOU LIKE THAT?"

Finally, having had her fun, Cassida screamed once more in triumph as she cast the sword down into the throat of Samantha, who had already passed out from the pain. Cassida was now visibly amped, her face red and veins popping out across her forehead.

Samantha let out one last gargling gasp, then went still, but Cassida wasn't finished yet. She leaned down, putting her face up next to Samantha's, and yelled.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!", Cassida screamed into the now dull eyes of the tribute from District 11, but Samantha was long gone.

Cassida looked up just in time to see Jerome barreling at her, wielding a machete and a cold, accusatory stare. She stood back up and smiled at the thought of a worthy challenge.

The cornucopia was now in the arms of a pincer that was slowly closing, crushing anyone who dared to enter. On one end was Cassida, who had a weapon, but preferred to use her fists when she could, and Konstance, who was seemingly blind with rage, taking it out on anyone he could get his hands on. On the other end was the whirling dance of Amagi's katana blade. There was no doubt that she was earning her name.

These facts, however, did not keep Stella from running into the bloodbath. She didn't venture in very far, only grabbing a couple of knives, before looking for her allies. She was scanning the crowd for Joule, but caught sight of Mikey instead. He was running for the trees, closely followed by Flash Adams, who was wielding a sword. She could see that Mikey had no weapons.

Stella, knives in hand, ran for the two, yelling out a battle cry as Flash toppled Mikey. Stella could see Flash's sword dropping down on a defenseless Mikey and knew that she was too late. There was no way she was going to make it in time to save Mikey, but she ran for them anyway.

Amagi, now with Chayonna on her back, had picked up her pace. She had grabbed a second katana somewhere along the line and was now moving across the field fluidly with extreme grace, her blades dancing around elegantly, as if it were a well choreographed dance. She wasted no time on anyone, swiftly finding a weak spot in a tribute's defense, then whipping a katana across or through any one of the many available vital points and moving on. Though Chayonna was avoiding fighting at all costs, she found that Amagi was doing enough fighting for the both of them. Chayonna was struggling just to keep up.

All of a sudden, she heard Amagi shouting at her again.

"That one's yours!", she yelled in Chayonna's ear. As she did, she pointed to Percy Chametz, who had just realized that he could not escape the vortex of blades and had decided to take a stand. Chayonna wanted anything but to attack, and briefly considered allowing the boy to stab her and get it over with. However, as the boy drew toward her, knife in hand, some primal part of her brain determined to keep her alive kicked in.

In her head, she brought up the image of the anthropomorphic wolf attacking Hans. It was enough for her to muster the courage to deflect his attack, then thrust her knife into his abdomen, but it was not enough to help her deal with the feeling of the knife piercing the boy's tough flesh. Her blade punched through the outer layer of skin, then slid easily through the soft gut beneath. Percy let out a soft groan as he dropped his weapon, and Chayonna immediately felt sick. She instinctively released the knife, as if it had suddenly become white hot, leaving it embedded in the boy's collapsed body.

She was glad to be rid of it.

Glancing over at Amagi, Chayonna saw her easily cut through Napoleon Vandergaard, who had gone into some sort of panic attack at the sight of Amagi's swordsmanship, and Lindsey Young, paralyzed with horror, had just stood and stared in shock as Amagi descended upon her. She now had her sights set on Jonah Abagnale.

At the edge of the jungle, Mikey knew it was over. Out of reflex, he threw up his hands to block the blow of Flash's descending blade. To both of their surprise, the blade ricocheted off Mikey's left arm and sank into the damp earth leaving behind nothing but a flesh wound. The sword left a small mark, but it was far less damage than Flash had expected. Confused, he raised the sword and brought it back down, harder this time. Once again, the sword reflected almost harmlessly off the boy's arm and embedded itself into the green undergrowth.

Flash wasn't sure what was going on. Was this some sort of trick? He looked at Mikey, then the sword, then back the boy.

Mikey, still pinned by Flash's boot, just shrugged up at him. The insufferable boy was smiling.

Coming back to his senses, fury building from the boy's boldness, Flash ripped the sword back out of the ground. He raised it once again and brought it down in a stabbing motion, this time aiming for the boy's heart. Before the blade found its target, however, Flash was knocked off his feet.

Stella tackled Flash just before he could land another blow on Mikey and the two tumbled into the darkness of the jungle.

In a move that he would come to regret later, Mikey did not wait to see if Stella was okay before standing up and running straight into the dark jungle. Consumed by fear, he kept running and running until he was out of breath, then slumped down between the roots of a large kapok tree. There, the truth finally caught up to him. He had almost died. Stella had saved him. He had left her. Now he was alone.

Finally free of the terror for his life he had felt earlier, he softly removed his glasses and began to silently weep.


	28. Chapter N plus 2

Stella and Flash tumbled head over heels through the undergrowth of the jungle. There had been a ravine just past the edge of the meadow that neither had seen, and both had lost their footing and had fallen. Stella's foot caught in the hanging vines of a liana and Flash rolled into the trunk of an enormous tree, coming to a crashing halt. His sword fell out of his hand as it hit the sturdy wood.

Stella was on her feet immediately, miraculously having held on to her knives and not injured herself. The shock of hitting the tree had temporarily stunned Flash, but now he was finding his feet again and reaching for the sword.

Stella had seen Flash fight in the training center and knew that she was in trouble. Though he preferred a spear, even with a sword, he was still undoubtedly a better fighter than she was. With as little distance as there was between them, she knew that there was no way that she could outrun him, especially up the wet embankment. Flash was still down, but was recovering quickly. If he did, Stella knew that she would lose this fight.

As Flash reached out for his sword, Stella made a split-second decision. She rushed at Flash with her knives.

Flash was only barely able to get a hand on the sword and bring it up to block Stella's advance, and a loud clanging sound reverberated off the understory trees. Flash's swing threw him slightly off balance, but before he could recover, Stella was on him again. She continued relentlessly attacking, pushing him backwards, not giving him any time to regain his footing.

Flash stumbled backwards, his feet searching for purchase in the soft dirt and undergrowth, bringing the sword up to meet each of Stella's jabs. Each time Stella thought she had an opening, Flash was able to bring the sword down to block. He was better at hand to hand combat than she had even thought possible. He could see her moves almost before she had planned them, and responded reflexively, almost instinctively. The two furiously fought for control, each waiting for the other to make a mistake.

In the end, it was a tree that turned the tide.

Flash was so concentrated on Stella's movements that he wasn't paying attention to his own and backed straight into a tree. The sudden change in momentum caused a couple of things to happen in short succession. First, the impact of hitting the tree gave Stella the opening she was looking for and she arced the knife over her head, then down toward Flash's heart.

Flash saw the attack coming and brought the edge of his sword up to parry the attack. However, he was distracted enough by both the tree and knife that Stella's sleight of hand, perfected over years of pickpocketing, allowed her to bring the other hand around, swinging the knife downward. Flash had completely fallen for the visual misdirection, and the knife jammed solidly into his leg. It buried up to the hilt, creating a sizable gash in Flash's inner thigh.

It wasn't a fatal wound, but it kept Flash from being able to use his leg properly, which was enough for Stella. She didn't want the kill, just enough to get away. She turned to run, not bothering to pull the knife from his leg, but Flash was too fast for her. His sword already raised from the previous parry, he pushed off the tree and lunged toward her.

Flash stepped forward and thrust his sword toward her heart.

Because he had practiced the move so many times, he could do it without even thinking about it. Executing the move burned into his muscle memory, he reflexively put weight on the leg that Stella had just slashed, and it began to collapse under him. Without the support of his plant leg, the thrust hit below and to the left of its target with considerable less force than he had intended. The blade sank into Stella's back and stuck there, doing major internal damage, though it wasn't the lethal blow that Flash had intended it to be.

She crumpled forward at the strike, and the sword fell free as she collapsed to the ground. Now on her hands and knees, Stella could feel the pain radiating out from her lower back and began to scramble, crawling away from Flash, trying to get out of his sword's reach before he could land another blow.

The thrust took more out of Flash than he had expected, and he realized that his leg was probably in worse condition than he had previously thought. He sat back against the tree and watched Stella clumsily attempt to escape, the open wound on her back oozing blood through the back of her uniform.

Flash tried to stand up, but his leg screamed in pain, and he collapsed back down. He would have to stop the bleeding if he was to chase her, let alone make the climb back up the slippery ravine. He watched as Stella rose up and clumsily limped off into the undergrowth.

Flash pulled off his shirt and pressed it as hard as he could against his wound, wincing at the pain the sudden pressure caused. It wasn't as good as the bandages he would find at the cornucopia, but it would have to do until he got there.

The pain was all Stella could think about. She was able to walk, but she had to keep her left leg straight, swinging it around stiffly to keep the pain in her lower back bearable. She did not dare look back to see if Flash was chasing her; she would find out soon enough if he was. She looped back around, searching for the way that Mikey had gone, and was relieved to find that it was not hard to identify the path that he had torn during his mad dash to escape from Flash. Now bleeding profusely, Stella staggered along the trail, hoping that she could at least get far enough away from the meadow that the other tributes would not stumble upon her when she finally and inevitably lost consciousness.

Back at the cornucopia, the bloodbath was over. Cassida and Konstance had both only suffered a few scratches and bruises each. Chayonna, who had been on Amagi's tail for the most part, had not suffered any injuries at all. Amagi was the only one there who had a wound requiring medical attention.

She had found a decent first aid kit, then the the four careers had cleared the area, allowing the hovercrafts to arrive and collect the bodies of the dead tributes. In all, twelve cannons sounded.

Amagi was now sitting up against a low lying tree on the edge of the jungle, wrapping up a gash in her left leg she suffered during her encounter with Jonah Abagnale. He had been much more adept with a spear than she had initially given him credit for and she had become sloppy after blazing through the crowd with minimal competition. In the end, he had gotten away unharmed with a pack and a couple of spears, leaving behind a stunned and wounded Amagi.

"Stupid mistake! Stupid!", she kept muttering to herself. "Never underestimate your opponent! That's the first thing they teach you! Stupid!"

She had been beating herself up about it since the fighting had stopped, so Chayonna decided to walk over and attempt to console her. Resting a hand on the girl's shoulder, Chayonna sympathized, "You did alright. Most of those twelve were your kills."

Amagi took a break from wrapping her leg to glower up at Chayonna. "_I _did alright? That doesn't mean all that much coming from the girl who only got a single kill."

"Yea", Chayonna nodded, "because you took them out before I could even reach them."

Chayonna remembered all too clearly what Amagi had said to her the night before the interviews, and, though her actions during the bloodbath may have indicated otherwise, she was determined not to let Amagi have the satisfaction of being right about her apparent fragility.

Amagi stared at her a bit longer, debating whether or not to pursue the issue, then huffed a small breath and went back to taping up her leg.

Flash had initially decided to wait it out at the tree until he felt better, but a series of rustling bushes and strange chirping noises spooked him. He almost forgot that he was in an arena and at any moment, another tribute or a gamemaker's contraption could burst through the foliage and attack him. He would be far safer with the other careers near the cornucopia.

Flash braced himself, then stood up and began the long, arduous climb up the ravine.

It took two hours for Flash to finally make his way back up the hill to the cornucopia. It was a grueling process and he had to keep stopping to hold pressure on his wound to prevent further bleeding. By the time he reached the top of the hill, he was exhausted and had lost a lot of blood. As he entered the clearing, the other four careers were surprised to see him; they all assumed that he had fallen sometime during the bloodbath.

Much deeper in the jungle, Stella was having problems of her own. She didn't know how far Mikey had run, but she knew that if she didn't find him before she collapsed, he would be even farther away when she woke up- if she even did wake up. It was hot and humid, and the air felt too heavy to breathe. She felt like she had already traveled a thousand miles and her body was battered and broken. Her body kept begging her to stop for a second to rest, though Stella knew that if she stopped, she would not be able to get back up.

She was in a haze, almost sleepwalking through the muggy foliage. Only focused on taking one step at a time, her brain had gone into a sort of autopilot as she followed the seemingly endless trail of broken branches and disturbed leaves.

She was startled out of her daydreams when she heard a voice speak her name, though her nerves settled a bit when she recognized the voice as Mikey's.

Stella looked to her right and saw both him and Joule hiding under the great roots of a giant kapok tree. Stella was half convinced that her body was playing tricks on her in its desperate attempt to get her to stop walking. Whether or not this was true, she welcomed the excuse.

With Mikey and Joule in sight, Stella was satisfied enough to give in to her body's temptation. She promptly closed her eyes and collapsed, letting the warm darkness envelope her.


	29. Chapter N plus 3

Stella woke up to the sound of chirping birds and buzzing insects. Spotted beams of sunlight were peeking through the leaves far above her as Stella stared up at the green canopy. She couldn't feel the pain in her back anymore, but didn't know if she had healed, had become paralyzed, or if she had died.

"Welcome back...", Joule's familiar voice floated by, dreamy and aloof. Joule was staring off at something in the distance, her eyes darting from plant to plant, as if searching for something that she couldn't quite see. Mikey was beside her poking a stick into a particularly busy anthill, the small insects frantically rushing around in a futile attempt to undo the damage he was causing. There were several sticks already embedded into the dirt mound that were swarming with ants.

Mikey looked up when he heard Joule's voice, and smiled when he saw that Stella had woken up. "Hey. Are you feeling a little better now? Flash got you good, didn't he? Oh, and thanks, by the way, for.. um.. earlier." He scratched his head and looked down for a second, unable to really look at Stella as he said it. Then he looked back up and motioned to Stella's left where an opened package lay. It was attached to a glowing silvery parachute. "They sent us something for that gash in your back. I guess it worked."

Though she felt stiff, Stella suddenly became keenly aware that her back was no longer throbbing. As she stretched her leg, she was surprised to find that the pain in her back was almost completely gone. There was still a faint ache, but it felt no worse than a bad bruise. She muttered a silent thanks to her mentor who had apparently been right about the perks of allying with Mikey.

Stella sat up and looked around. They were still sitting near the large kapok tree, though they had moved off of the path that Mikey had blazed earlier.

"So what's the plan?", Stella asked groggily, still shaking off her sleepy stupor.

Without averting her gaze, Joule gently held out her hand, palm up. In it was small, round device, the clear plastic exterior accentuating a series of numbers engraved all along the outside. It reminded Stella of the pocket watch she had taken from her costume earlier, except that it only had one hand. She held the device up to her ear, listening for a ticking sound, but heard nothing. She rattled the device next to her ear and, when she heard the swishing sound of water, assumed that it must have become waterlogged and broken- not much of a surprise in this weather.

Mikey smirked, trying to stifle a laugh as he watched Stella try to figure out how the device worked. Finally deciding that he'd let her mess with the thing long enough, he moved over to help her with it.

"No, no, you hold it like this." Mikey took the device from her and held it flat on his palm. Stella saw no difference until Mikey began moving his hand from side to side. The clock's single hand, which was half red and half white, insisted on pointing toward the large kapok tree no matter how Mikey held it.

Stella scrutinized the tree, but couldn't see anything particularly significant about it.

"So it finds those huge trees? Big deal", Stella scoffed. She couldn't see how that tree would help them.

Mikey, still amused by Stella's confusion, smiled even wider. "No, no, it doesn't point at the tree. It points _north_. The tree just happens to be north of us."

He tried to explain how the compass worked, but when Stella had a hard time understanding electromagnetism and the Earth's rotating molten iron core, she settled for "just because" as a completely plausible explanation. It didn't matter all that much to her anyway; she was more interested in what had happened after she had fainted earlier and how Joule had found them.

It took Mikey a while to explain everything. Though he had run straight from the cornucopia, Joule had been able to grab a simple survival kit before clearing the meadow. The kit had contained among other things, the compass, which Joule had followed west to find Mikey.

"The point", Mikey finished, "is that now we know exactly which way to go to reach the supply bunker." He rotated his body around, holding the compass in his outstretched hand, until he was satisfied, then pointed forward in the direction he was facing. "That way."

"Works for me", Stella shrugged. She turned to tell Joule to follow them, but when she looked over at her, she jerked, startled by the fact that Joule was already standing right beside her. Joule was smiling mysteriously, her eyes lazily scanning the treetops above.

"You've got to stop doing that", Stella shot crossly at Joule.

"Doing what...?" Joule responded loftily.

"Sneaking up on me. It's kind of freaky."

Joule giggled as she stepped past Stella, then held two knives out in her open palm. "I think these are yours."

Stella stared at Joule for a second. It was the most she had ever heard the girl speak at one time. Either Mikey had been working with her on it or something about the games must have made her more focused. Stella snatched both of the knives out of Joule's hand, then, after a moment of consideration, decided to offer one back. "Take one. You might need it later."

Joule looked shocked at the suggestion. "Oh, no, no...", she waved Stella's offer away. "They're for you... I... don't fight." Joule gave Stella another one of her enigmatic smiles.

Stella raised an eyebrow and asked, "What do you mean you don't fight? This is the hunger games. We all have to fight sooner or later."

Joule shook her head stiffly and responded with certainty, "Pacifist... don't believe... fighting... doesn't do... good." She looked away, shivering at the thought.

Stella stared at Joule for a second, debating pursuing the issue further. Then, she decided against it and instead just shrugged. "Whatever. More knives for me, then."

She tucked the knives away and the three set out into the jungle due west.

Stella had not been unconscious more than an a couple of hours, but Flash had refused to give in to unconsciousness at all. Now, back at the cornucopia, he had bandaged the wound up, but was playing it off for less than he knew it was, because he didn't want to look weak to the others. He knew perfectly well what career tributes normally did to the members that could no longer pull their weight.

The others, however, were not really paying attention to Flash. They were sorting through the bounty at the cornucopia and had made an interesting observation. Despite the abundance of weapons, none of them seemed to be a ranged weapon. Certainly you could throw a spear or an axe, but there was a distinct absence of slings, bows, or any other weapons that were ranged by nature. Amagi had been looking for a bow, but either there wasn't one or somebody had already taken it. When Amagi mentioned it, Chayonna thought back and realized that there hadn't been an archery training station either. It was a mystery to everyone, though Cassida shrugged it off, saying "I guess they just want us all to stab each other instead."

Konstance countered, "Like how you stabbed your district partner?", to which Cassida had waved him off dismissively. "He accidentally fell into my sword. It happens."

Konstance had his suspicions about the girl from District 4, but now was not the time to voice them. At any rate, there were other more pressing problems at hand.

As for the lack of archery equipment, there was nothing they could do about it but speculate. Otherwise, the weapon assortment varied, but seemed suspiciously catered to the needs of each of the career tributes. There were katanas for Amagi, sets of sais for Konstance, spears for Flash, swords for Cassida, and a couple of spiked iron maces for Chayonna.

Though the career tributes were finding a number of goodies to help them weed out the other tributes, the outer district tributes were having more trouble. Out of all the tributes, Violet Aster was debatably the worst off.

After watching Amagi rip through Percy, she had turned and run straight into the jungle without looking back. She was in great physical shape, her body used to the grueling effects of long-distance running, though now she was employing it more as a defense mechanism than anything else. Though the memory was fresh, it seemed distant, like a movie she had recently watched, only she couldn't escape the theater and get back to her real life. Her mind went numb as she focused only on running, stopping only to gather water.

She had escaped the bloodbath with no bodily injury, but also with very little in the way of supplies. She had only managed to grab a somewhat stale loaf of bread and a small square of piece of plastic that she was now using to collect water by draining it off the leaves, soaked in the extremely humid environment.

She pushed her body to run on and on into the unknown, the physical pain masking the emotional pain she now harbored, hoping to put as much distance between her and the career pack as possible before nightfall. However, after only an hour, she found that she had already hit the edge of the arena. At least, what she thought was the edge of the arena.

Deeming the massive object in front of her impassible, she set up a small camp next to the great obstacle, which ran as far as she could see in both directions. With nowhere to run, Violet sat down at the edge of the arena, where the past caught up to her. Her sweat mingled with her tears as she crumpled to the ground, finally allowing herself to feel the loss of Percy.

She hugged her meager supplies close, letting her fear and anguish flow in streams down her cheeks. She continued sobbing for the greater part of the afternoon, as the sun slowly passed overhead, crying until she had no more tears left. She had no idea how much time had passed when she finally gathered herself. Still shaking, she looked up from the loaf of bread she had been hugging and realized that she had inadvertently crushed it.

She now had nothing but a small square of plastic and a crushed loaf of bread to keep her alive. Staring at the destroyed loaf, Violet's was suddenly grounded by a new fear. She took a few deep breaths and collected herself. Standing up, panic began taking the place of sorrow. If she didn't find a source of food, her problems would soon get a lot worse.

A few miles south-east of Violet, three other out-district tributes were still stumbling through the jungle. Though they had been walking for hours in the suffocating heat, Mikey, Stella, and Joule had found nothing but trees, bushes, and vines.

Mikey led the way deeper into the dark jungle, guided only by the compass held flat in his right hand. Joule followed right behind him, and Stella took up the rear guard, knives at the ready. The three had been trudging through the jungle for most of the day. They were all tired from walking and had become dehydrated from sweating so profusely. It was starting to get dark and they had not yet run into anything that they thought the blue line could have represented. There had been a quietly flowing brook that they had stepped over, but none of them thought it was significant enough to warrant the bold blue line they had seen on the map.

Joule offered that the blue line may have referred to something they couldn't see, like an underground tunnel or electric line. Mikey believed that the gamemakers might have changed the arena after they discovered that the two of them had sneaked in. Stella remained determined that they just hadn't found it yet, and the three trudged on. None of them quite wanted to admit it, but focusing on this plan kept them from fully realizing how dire their situation in the arena actually was.

It was almost dark when Mikey finally found the far edge of the jungle. The sun was beginning to brush the tops of the tropical palms as he stepped through a grove of trees and out onto what looked like a paved road. The other two stepped out beside him, glad to have finally found something other than more jungle, though they would've been just as happy to have stumbled back into the meadow for all the trouble the jungle had been giving them.

Standing in the road, looking out in the direction that the supply bunker should be, they all realized that they would have to come up with a new plan. The object standing between them and the supply bunker was not a river or stream at all. In fact, it was probably the last thing that they would have expected to see, especially in the arena.

Unlike the compass, this object didn't require an explanation; it was one of the few things that all of their districts had in common.

Towering over them, stretching as far as they could see in either direction, was a massive electric fence. It was gently humming as nearly 10,000 volts of electricity streamed through it.


	30. Chapter N plus 4

The careers had wanted to go hunting for the other tributes before night fell, but Flash had gotten too excited, and had tried to use his leg before it was ready. The gash had burst back open and he had to stop and wrap it all over again. Furious at his body's inept healing ability, he convinced the others to put off hunting until the next day, when "everybody" had recovered.

Instead, they all found other things to do. Cassida became bored and ran off on into the jungle with the excuse of "exploring the area". Chayonna volunteered to set up a tent or two, but ended up doing more reading of the instruction manuals than actual tent construction. Flash was sitting near the cornucopia, mentally willing his leg to heal faster. Amagi and Konstance took ropes and nets from the cornucopia and began setting traps around the perimeter, where the jungle met the meadow, to catch anyone trying to sneak back for supplies

Konstance had not said anything since the bloodbath, and Amagi didn't care enough to try to start a conversation. Focusing his mind on tying knots and laying tripwires, Konstance was glad for the distraction from his thoughts, which had become darker than usual after the bloodbath ended. He had thought that releasing his rage would free him from it, but it had really only made him hate himself more. He did not want to be a killer, and those poor kids certainly did not deserve what he had done to them. He thought of Presley and Grace, his younger step-siblings, whom he had tortured and tormented all his life, and how much he regretted it.

He regretted all of it; everything that he had ever done to them.

As he tied off the last knot in a particularly delicately balanced snare, he paused, staring at the contraption. As if hit by a rapidly advancing influx of tide, a sudden realization of how likely it was that he was going to die out here washed over him. The thought hit him like a physical blow, and he found himself examining his surroundings with a newfound clarity.

He became keenly aware of the fact that by the end of the week, he may be dead, and what would any of it matter? With so little time left, he found that he could no longer stand the thought of wasting another minute brooding about things he could never change. He decided to stop beating himself up about the past and start being the person that he wanted to be, for however long he had left to live. He could never undo his past, who he had been, or what he had done, but he could change who he was now and who he would be in the future.

In that moment, he decided to sever his old life, and begin a new one. Determined to make up for all of the bad decisions of his previous life, in this, his new life, he was going to live the way that he should have been all this time, for however much longer he had left.

Konstance and Amagi returned to the meadow just as the Capitol anthem played. They both looked up to see the symbol of the Capitol, followed by the faces of the fallen tributes. Most of them had been killed by either Amagi or Cassida, but Konstance was particularly pained when he saw faces that he recognized from earlier that day.

The first two were Lisa Stillwater and Tomas Waters from District 3 and 4 respectively. Konstance was slightly relieved that nobody from District 5 was shown when the next tribute was Kennedy Orloft from District 6. The next two were Napoleon Vandergaard, the boy from District 7, and Emma Frisia, the girl from District 8. Amagi began cursing again when Jonah Abagnale's face did not appear, reminded once again that he had gotten away from her.

Out of the last four districts, Jerome Acres, from District 11, was the only one who had survived the first day. He had managed to subdue Cassida fairly easily, but noticing that Konstance was closing in, had wisely decided to retreat.

Because he had managed to get a machete and a pack full of supplies, Jerome wasn't particularly worried about starving or being caught defenseless. Still, he had continued to run through the jungle until he stumbled upon a grove of banana trees. He had spent the rest of the day constructing a shelter out of the giant leaves, attempting to make it disappear into the vegetation around it.

It had taken him several hours, but now that night was falling, he was rather proud of his work. He had even managed to find a large rock that would roll up, blocking the entrance, to act as a makeshift door. Now completely encased in his shelter of leaves, he could not see the faces of the fallen tributes as they were displayed across the sky, but he didn't really care. He knew that Samantha was among them and seeing her face on the Capitol's projection would only make him angrier. Exhausted by the day's work, he drifted easily off to sleep.

He was awoken later during the night by a series of strange chirping sounds, like the calls of several small tropical birds. Suddenly awake, he found himself terrified by the sound, not because it was particularly insidious, but because it was unknown. He was suddenly quite thankful that he had thought to build a shelter rather than sleep on the bare ground.

He slowly reached for his machete, taking care to make no sound, and listened intently for the intruders. As he did, he glimpsed a shadow of a figure dart past one wall of his shelter. It was hard to tell, because of the angle of the shadow, but it looked like the creature was a small bird, likely the one making the odd chirping sounds.

Jerome was sitting up now, his back against the stone door, which was the only part of the shelter sturdy enough to depend on. His eyes darted back and forth across the other dimly lit walls of the small shelter, looking for any sign of movement. The chirping sounds had picked up now, and he could tell that a flock had gathered outside his shelter, but he still could not see them.

He had no idea what he was up against.

As he scanned the walls, in the crack between two leaves that made up one wall of his shelter, he caught a glimpse of a single yellow eye. The creature's skin was scaly, and he imagined it belonging to some sort of snake muttation. Jerome took no chances. He tightened his grip on the machete and thrusted the blade straight through the crack and into the creature's eye.

The thing jumped back, squeaking sharply in pain, and the others began chirping in response. All around his shelter, he could see the shadows of the creatures, eerily distorted by the moonlight, as they hopped up and down, chirping madly. It looked like some sort of ritual tribal dance, and he was the sacrificial offering.

Jerome was in a crouching position now, adrenaline flooding his body. He couldn't decide if it would be better to charge the interlopers and take them by surprise or if he should stay put and not risk compromising the safety of his shelter. Deciding to remain still and wait, he watched as eventually, the lizard mutts stopped chirping, and the shadows receded, then disappeared.

Jerome slowly sat back down, his heart thumping madly within his chest, daring to hope that it was all over. As he willed himself to calm down, one of the lizard mutts returned, sprinting toward the shelter and threw its body into one of the weaker banana leaves making up the walls of the shelter. The leaf collapsed, opening up a hole in the side of his shelter, and the herd of lizard mutts streamed in.

On the other end of the arena, Mikey and Joule were staring at the stars. With all the light pollution in both District 3 and District 5, neither of them had ever seen so many. Though, as Joule eventually pointed out, it was likely that they were looking at a projection instead of the actual stars, which killed the illusion for Mikey.

The sudden appearance of the electric fence had halted all of their plans, and they had decided to stop and set up camp before it got too dark. However, they couldn't decide whether they should stay on the open road or in the jungle. Stella wanted to sleep out on the road, because you could never tell what creatures were in the jungle and, out on the road, at least they could see something coming. Joule argued that in the middle of the road, tributes would be able to see them from a mile away.

In the end, Mikey sided with Stella, if only because he felt slightly indebted to her for saving his life earlier. Joule saw that she was outnumbered and had given in to the others.

As soon as they had set up camp, Stella was asleep. She was used to sleeping on the hard ground, and was exhausted from the events of the day. Though Mikey was tired, he was still shaken up about his near death experience earlier and Joule looked like she never really slept at all anyway, so she stayed up with him.

Joule and Mikey looked up as the Capitol's anthem played and the fallen tributes were displayed across the sky. Mikey was surprised and slightly ashamed to find that he really didn't know any of them all that well, even Lisa Stillwater, the girl from his district. Soon enough, the seal of the Capitol disappeared and Mikey was once again staring up at the stars.

There had been a time, before the catastrophes, that the people had banded together to explore the stars. He had read about many of them and their expeditions, and had gone through a whole exploratory phase a few years ago, planning a way to reach the star himself. However, as childhood dreams tend to do, his plans met heavy resistance from real world problems, the most significant of which was the unreliability of sources. He found plenty of accounts from before the catastrophes of what actually existed beyond Earth, but they varied greatly in description from aliens and asteroids to robots and satellites, and there was no plausible way to tell anymore which accounts were real and which were fictional. The problem had caused him to shelf the idea for later, but now that he had been reaped, he wasn't sure if there was even going to be a later.

Remembering that he was supposed to be on guard duty, he broke his stargazing trance and glanced over at the jungle across from him. When he did, he saw a single glowing yellow eye staring back at him out of the darkness of the jungle.

Fear once again shot through Mikey. He turned to ask Joule if she saw it too, but when he looked, he saw that she had fallen asleep. He didn't want to wake her, so he didn't bother her with it. Instead, he looked back into the jungle, but the glowing eye was gone. He could only see the rustling of the wet leaves reflecting the yellow moonlight. He shook it off, assuming that his imagination was beginning to get away from him with all this stress he had been under lately.

He sighed and listened to the soft rhythmic humming of the electric fence. It reminded him of his father's laboratory and of the projects they had worked together on. Vaguely, he wondered if he was ever going to get to help his father build anything ever again. He thought back, trying to think of the last project they had worked on together was, but he couldn't quite remember it. They all seemed to melt together.

In his mind, he went back and tried to remember all of the things that he had helped his father build, starting with the very first animatronic doll designed to look like the main character of a popular Capitol soap opera. The list was quite extensive, and before he had even gotten halfway through it, he, too, had fallen asleep.

A few hours later, the sound of a cannon firing woke all three of them up.


	31. Chapter N plus 5

Because Flash had been so focused on Mikey during the bloodbath, Berton Wells had been able to gather quite a bit of supplies from the perimeter of the cornucopia and escape relatively unnoticed into the jungle. Berton and Kennedy, who had not known what the arena was going to be like beforehand, had made a much less specific plan than that of those who had. After brainstorming, Kennedy proposed that there was likely to be either a sun or moon that could be used as a point of reference. It wasn't much, but the general idea was to meet in the closest safe area in the direction of the sun from the cornucopia.

Because he had been relatively unchallenged, Berton had been the first to arrive in the designated meeting place. Following the perimeter of the jungle, making sure to stay just out of sight of the cornucopia, he made his way around until he stood in the jungle between the sun and the open meadow. There, he had found a relatively stable medium sized tree where he climbed to wait for Kennedy.

Hours later, however, Kennedy still hadn't showed up. Thinking that perhaps Kennedy might also be hiding and waiting for him, Berton climbed down and, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible, explored the area. The sun had moved considerably since the bloodbath began, and Berton found himself slowly migrating westward as he followed the sun, combing the dense undergrowth looking for Kennedy. As the day wore on, he became more desperate, at some points daring to call the boy's name out, but never received a response.

As dark finally began to settle in, Berton had to accept that he was not going to find Kennedy and that he would need to start entertaining alternate plans. He retreated a bit farther into the jungle until he found a grove of sturdy trees. With help from the thick ropy vines scaling the side, Berton scrambled up one of the massive trees and settled on one of the thick, coarse lower branches. His timing could not have been better, because not fifteen minutes later, he could see the bushes and shrubs moving in the distance as two figures made their way toward him.

Konstance and Amagi were slowly advancing through the forest, occasionally stopping to do something with the supplies they were carrying. A jolt of nervous energy flowed through Berton as he suddenly remembered where he was. Now hyper aware of all of his physical movements, he willed himself to keep still and for nothing to happen that would expose his presence to the two careers. He had seen Amagi Blade in action earlier and didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of her swords.

He could almost hear Kennedy's dry humor, "It's all fun and games until someone gets stabbed in the throat." Berton had to stifle a chuckle at the boy's words or wisdom.

It wasn't until the intruders were nearly below him that he could see what they were doing. He had spent enough time with Kennedy in the training center to recognize a trap when he saw it. Another jolt of fear briefly shot through Berton as he wondered if they were setting up a trap there because they knew that he was hiding directly above them. Then the logical side of his brain kicked in and reminded him that there were far simpler and more dependable ways of killing a defenseless treed tribute than by setting up a trap right in front of him.

Anyway, he would have to be an idiot to get himself caught in a trap that he had quite clearly seen them set up.

Compared to the ambient noise from various jungle creatures, the two careers were eerily quiet as they carried out their work, focusing more on balancing the flexible snares than on each other. As the career tribute he recognized as Konstance put the finishing touches on a particularly well balanced tripwire, the two silently returned to the cornucopia. As they did, Berton allowed himself to relax a bit after they were gone, though he remained vigilant.

When he heard the sudden blaring of the Capitol anthem, he nearly fell out of the tree. Precariously balanced, he reflexively latched onto the thick vines for support. He shuffled his position until it was comfortable, then looked up at the Capitol's display. He had a front row seat to the slideshow of tributes that had been killed that morning. Only then, as he watched the Capitol display the fallen tributes, did it occur to Berton that Kennedy might already be dead. A few seconds later, this fear was confirmed, as Kennedy's faced flashed across the sky.

The loss hit Berton harder than he thought it would, considering that he had only known Kennedy for a few days. His initial strategy now thoroughly shattered, he climbed up higher to get a better view of the career tributes in the meadow. His mind now occupied with the loss of Kennedy, he didn't realize that one of his footholds was too weak to support his weight until it gave out beneath him with a sickening cracking sound.

He lost his balance and tipped backwards, flailing his arms for something to hold on to. He managed to get three fingers to grip a small knob in the coarse bark, and now hung from the tree suspended only by the one hand. He swung gently for a few moments, though his sweaty hands soon slipped off the knob, and he began to fall. Grabbing desperately with his hands as he tumbled down, he managed to get a solid grip on one of the thick leafy vines. Though this momentarily halted his fall, the momentum and Berton's weight caused the vines' roots to tear away from the tree with loud ripping sound, and both Berton and the vine crashed to the ground.

The career tributes had started an enormous fire in the center of the clearing, signaling their exact location to everyone in the arena. Cassida returned around nightfall, towing a sack full of bananas she had found, though there was clearly plenty of food available at the cornucopia. Now that the career pack reassembled, they decided to split up guard shifts. Initially, Flash and Chayonna had opted for the first shift, being from the first district, but Konstance stepped in to veto it. He didn't truly trust any of these people now that they were in the arena. He required that the two guards be of separate districts to dissuade treachery within the alliance and was only placated when Amagi volunteered to take Flash's spot.

Still, Konstance was wary of his supposed allies. Though he made a scene of lying down in the field, he didn't dare go to sleep. He pretended to sleep, but kept one eye on Amagi, whom, though she was from the same district, he didn't trust at all. He lay awake, shrewdly watching the girl.

After a while of watching her, his suspicions were confirmed.

Chayonna, somewhat sure that they weren't going to get visitors, had once again buried her head into the manual for setting up tents. Amagi, seeing that she was distracted, left the meadow with the excuse of checking the perimeter traps. However, as she went, she quietly grabbed a pack from the cornucopia and, checking to make sure that Chayonna had not noticed, disappeared into the woods with the pack.

Konstance watched carefully, uncertain of Amagi's strategy, but wary that she was up to something. Five minutes later, Amagi returned, though she no longer had the pack. Over the course of their watch, Amagi did the same thing two more times, each time disappearing into the jungle with a pack of supplies and returning without it. Konstance was not entirely sure what strategy the girl was employing, but was sure that it was not for his benefit. It would be imprudent of him not to intervene. He made sure to memorize the area where she had disappeared with the packs before pretending to wake up and offered to take her position on watch. If this threw a wrench into her plan, Amagi didn't show it. She accepted gracefully, though not before lightly kicking the loudly snoring Flash to wake him up.

Flash yelled out, thrashing about, wildly swinging a knife as he was startled awake. Amagi, who had predicted this, had given him plenty of room to madly flail around.

"Wha- Hey!" Flash tried to get to his feet, but his leg couldn't quite hold his weight, and he collapsed back down. "What was that for?"

Amagi stared at him, unamused. "Your watch. I'm going to sleep."

"Well you could have said something! You didn't have to kick me!"

Amagi cocked her head contemplatively before responding, "No, I suppose I didn't." She shrugged lightly, then retreated into the cornucopia, dragging her sleeping bag along behind her. Chayonna also went off to sleep, leaving Konstance and Flash alone, staring into the roaring fire in silence.

The silence was a quite comfortable feeling to Konstance, but Flash, who found it rather awkward, decided to try to make a conversation. He chuckled lightly, then addressed the other career sitting across from him. "You know, when they were teaching us about what the arena would be like, they forgot to mention how boring it would be. You know, just sitting around a fire."

He looked over at Konstance, expecting a response, but he seemed to be deep in thought about something. If he had heard Flash, he didn't show it.

Flash scooted around, adjusting his position, then returned his attention to the fire. He didn't really blame Konstance for ignoring him; he figured that the others had already begun shunting him out of the career alliance.

Even back home, Flash never felt like he belonged. He had friends, of course, but he never really felt like he was one of them. He felt like Tarzan, an orphaned outsider taken in by a family of gorillas simply because they pitied him, only to be abandoned the day that the gorillas realized that he was different. Flash went to school with the others his age and he trained with them, but he always felt like at any given moment, they would suddenly look up and realize the truth- that he was not one of them- and would oust him from their respective groups.

Though he trained with other potential career tributes from District 1, he always secretly considered himself to be inferior to them. This only caused him to train harder in an attempt to quench his unrelenting sense of insecurity. During the reaping, when he had submitted his request to volunteer, he had been stricken by a fleeting fear that he would be rejected as a candidate, and would have to return home ashamed and embarrassed.

However, the satisfied feeling of being chosen to honor the district was transient, quickly struck down by a series of events. First Chayonna had ignored him, then had pinned him in front of the other career tributes. Later, not only had Cassida shown him up in the training center, but that pitiful kid from District 3 had broken his nose. When the bloodbath came, not only had he not scored a single kill, but he had been wounded worse than any of the other careers.

Compared to the other career tributes, he felt like a failure. The little brother that only gets to go along with his older brother's friends because mommy is forcing them to drag him along.

He really didn't blame Konstance for ignoring him. Though he had tried his hardest to act like it, Flash had never really felt like a part of the career alliance, and was not surprised to find that Konstance seemed to feel the same way. He didn't consider himself good enough to be a career tribute, and he didn't expect Konstance to think otherwise.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Konstance addressed him. "Tell me something. Why did you volunteer? What did you think you were accomplishing?" He looked up from the fire, his dark face illuminated only by the flickering flames.

Assuming that Konstance was saying that he wasn't good enough to volunteer, Flash lashed back. "What do you know about me? I'm the best in the district! They wouldn't have chosen me unless they thought so!" Flash leered at him, until Konstance broke the gaze to stare back at the fire. Taking it as a sign of resignation, he added, "And if there's anyone who doesn't think so, I'll prove it to them. Just watch me."

Konstance, who didn't seem to take offense, stared back into the campfire. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "Is that worth risking your life?"

Flash's eyes narrowed into a piercing glare. Converting his self-worth issues into a verbal attack, he spat, "You're one to ask! At least I have a decent reason for being here! What about you? Giving up all your money to charity? You're insulting your district and the Capitol!" Flash shook his head angrily and scoffed, "What are you even doing here?"

Konstance, though not entirely hurt, sensed the heavy emotions coating Flash's words and decided to cut his losses and end the conversation before the exchange became physically violent. "Look, I didn't mean it like that. It was just a question."

Flash let it go, but there was still a thick tension between them, so Konstance decided to give him some space. Using the same excuse that Amagi had given to Chayonna, he walked out to the perimeter in the direction that he had seen her go earlier. He stepped carefully into the dark jungle, wary of traps that he and Amagi had set.

The dense foliage of the jungle blocked much of the moonlight and the dim light made it difficult to see. A few steps in, he stood still, waiting for his eyes to adjust. In the ensuing silence, he heard the faint, but unmistakable sound of something moving in the bushes to his right. He immediately pulled his two sais out and assumed a crouching fighter's stance. The noise stopped momentarily, and, after a short internal struggle, he moved forward slowly and silently into the jungle toward the source of the sound.

Back in the meadow, Flash was still pouting from the argument that he had had with Konstance. He was more aware than ever of his handicapped leg, and wanted more than anything to be able to prove to the others that he was not the weakest link in their alliance. When he heard a rustling in the bushes near the perimeter of the meadow, he got his chance.

At first, he thought it might just be the wind rustling through the leaves, but was proven wrong when a small lizard-like creature jumped out and took a few hops out into the field. The bold creature stopped when it saw Flash and cocked its head curiously.

Under other circumstances, Flash may have woken the others, but he didn't want to seem like a coward or, worse, weak. Instead, he picked up his spear and stalked toward the creature.

On the other end of the meadow, Konstance was also silently stalking his prey. In his head, he was imagining all sorts of beastly jungle creatures, from giant cats with razor claws to monstrous snakes that could devour a person whole. Each of his senses had now become hyper tuned to the surrounding environment, catching the slightest of sounds and the faintest of odors.

He breached a dense wall of foliage and stepped out into a small opening, dimly lit by moonlight. He held up his weapons in a defensive posture, but slowly lowered them as he realized what he was looking at.

The source of the sound was one of the net traps that had caught something creeping around in the night. Upon being sprung, the net had tightened, rendering its quarry harmless, and Konstance holstered his weapons as he approached. As the suspended contraption spun around, Konstance recognized the green eyes of Berton Wells staring back at him through the mesh of the net.


	32. Chapter N plus 6

Konstance stared at Berton, unsure of what to do.

He knew that his sponsors would expect him to show the boy no mercy, but now, looking at the defenseless boy, he hesitated. What was more important? The Capitol sponsors that may keep him alive or what his family would think of him, should he make it back?

Konstance knew what he had to do.

Certainly they would be the main feature of current games coverage and all the eyes of Panem were watching his every movement. He was aware that everyone in District 2 must be watching. He could feel his family and friends watching him. He could even sense Berton's family watching him, mentally willing him to... what? Look the other way? Let him go? They knew how the games worked. Berton had made a mistake, and Konstance couldn't be blamed for it.

He drew his dual sais and approached the boy, but the sound of Berton's voice halted him.

"Wait!", Berton squeaked, hardly more audible than the calls of the night insects. He cleared his throat, then continued in a shaky voice, "Look, before you kill me..." He paused for a moment. He had started the sentence without knowing how he was going to finish it and was now debating what exactly to say.

Konstance, glad for a reason to put off what he regrettably must do, patiently waited for Berton to finish his sentence. He felt like a police officer who, after asking the driver for proof of registration, had to patiently wait as the driver frantically searched for documents that they were both were fully aware never existed in the first place, before being able to issue a ticket.

When Berton did finally respond, his voice was downcast and sullen. After being swept up in the net, he gone through every possible stage of grief, and now had all but accepted his fate. Konstance was expecting some sort of flimsy excuse for sparing him or a plea of innocence, but was surprised by what he heard instead.

From the first day of training, Berton had seen Kieran, his half-brother, in Konstance, not just in his appearance, but also in his mannerisms. He had never gotten the chance to tell Kieran many of the things that he had wanted to, and now that his inescapable death had so quickly descended upon him, Berton's conscious now bugged him to get all these things off of his chest. He knew that Kieran must be watching now, and, as he looked down at Konstance, it was not hard to convince himself that he was addressing his half-brother.

"Hey, look, I know you have to kill me, but it's not your fault, okay?"

Konstance, who had been fully expecting a plea of mercy or some sort of excuse, was caught off guard. "What?"

Berton repeated, "It's not your fault. We both know what's going to happen here, and it's... it's okay." A slight sniffle betrayed his true feelings as he continued to talk to the career tribute before him. "Nobody's going to blame you."

The last part of that sentence that resonated with something somewhere deep inside Konstance, and he found himself unable to move. Once again, the feeling of familiarity that he had felt back in the training center flooded through him, and he tried to push it aside.

He didn't need any more guilt.

Berton, sensing that his words had affected Konstance in some way, continued. "You remind me of my brother, you know? He's a good guy, but he never seems to believe it when we tell him. Well, he's not actually my real brother, we adopted him- long story- but he keeps beating himself up about it." Berton let out a soft laugh at the thought of his brother, almost forgetting that he was suspended in a net awaiting his imminent death.

Berton continued, "The thing is, he hates that he wasn't able to help his family out and he hates thinking that he's a burden to us." He shook his head, recalling his brother's many breakdowns regarding the subject. He took a deep breath, then finished, "The thing is, he thinks he's a burden to us because he takes up an extra bedroom and eats our food, but he doesn't realize how much he means to us. He's so focused on all the things he did wrong, that he doesn't realize all the good he's doing."

Berton stopped here and looked up at Konstance. "You have a lot in common with him. I don't know all that much about you, but I thought you would want to know that... it's okay. It's not your fault. That's all I mean."

During the reaping, when all his family members had come to say goodbye to him, he had still held out hope that one of them would tell him that his life was worth it and that he shouldn't have volunteered. Even if there was nothing they could have done at that point, it would have been nice to hear one of them, any of them, say it. However, nobody had showed the slightest sign of any of these things. Now that he was in the arena, he had given up hope on anyone bothering to even try to understand him, let alone see or address one of the biggest things bothering him.

Konstance and Berton stared at each other in the dim light.

All at once, the feeling of familiarity hit Konstance solidly, and he finally was able to recognize the face behind it. The speech that Berton was giving about his brother sounded familiar to Konstance because he had heard it before, only he had been the one on the receiving end. Though he was looking at Berton swinging in the net trap in front of him, he now saw Bethany's eyes staring back out at him.

How many times had Bethany tried to tell him how worthy he was, and how many times had Konstance insisted to her that he was a burden to his family? The memories all rushed Konstance at once in such force that he could not ignore them. The sound of Bethany's voice filled his head with the same question he had asked Flash.

_Why did you volunteer?_

He had not been able to answer Bethany when she had come to visit him on reaping day, not because he didn't know, but because he had been too ashamed to admit it. His old self had not been able to accept this, but the new Konstance, committed to living the best that he could for what little may possibly remain of it, took it in stride. He could not change the fact that he volunteered, but there was something he could still do about it. He was going to win. He would become victor and return home to his family a new Konstance. Reaping day would not be the last time he would see Bethany, and he vowed that from this moment on, he would not waste a single moment he was given with his family or friends.

They both jumped as the sound of a cannon blast broke the silence.

Konstance knew that the thunderous sound would have woken the other careers. Looking up at Berton, he realized that he had to act now and return or the other careers would suspect something. He looked back at Berton, and steeled himself as he raised his weapon. He would have to do this quickly, before he changed his mind.

Berton closed his eyes and winced as Konstance swung his sais down toward him.

Berton braced for the impact of the weapon, but the pain never came. Instead, he was filled with a strange floating feeling, as if he were on a roller coaster that had just passed the apogee of its first hill and was now accelerating in its descent. Then, the world hit him at once and knocked the breath out of him.

Is this what death felt like? He slowly opened his eyes, wondering if he had been killed so fast that he had felt no pain, and found that the ropes holding him captive had been severed, and that the net trap had dumped him onto the forest floor. He stood up and looked around for the boy who had freed him, but Konstance was long gone.

Out in the meadow, the moonlight offered a clear view of the creature as Flash cautiously approached. The dark green lizard creature was about a foot tall and Flash could see brown stripes running down its back. As he approached, the creature took a few more hops out into the field. It drew up onto its hind legs, its forelimbs dangling in the air, and bobbed its head as it walked.

Flash lowered his guard slightly as he got closer. This creature was about as menacing as a small rabbit. The lizard merely cocked its head as Flash brandished his spear at it. "Go on! Get out of here!"

The small creature jumped playfully, chirping back at Flash, and the two stared at each other in the soft moonlight.

Flash looked down for the briefest of moments to fix one of his bandages that had come loose, and the creature took that moment to charge. The lizard moved blindingly fast and was on Flash's leg before he could react. As an impulse response, Flash kicked his leg in disgust, and the creature went flying into the depths of the jungle, chirping madly as it went.

Flash felt a sharp pain on his leg and looked down to see that the creature had nipped his ankle before it had been launched away. More annoying than anything, the small area stung like it was being pinched. Flash leaned down and rubbed the spot, where a small drop of blood was now oozing from the pinhole sized punctures the small teeth had made. The rubbing dulled the pain, but when Flash looked up, the lizard had returned, only now there were two more next to the first one.

No.

Flash was done with this. He didn't need any more injuries or handicaps. They were just taunting him and he'd had enough. He swung his spear down at the creatures, catching two and sending them off squealing, though the third ducked the swing and ran up to nip his ankle again. Flash kicked the thing off as he backed up slowly toward the cornucopia, feeling safer with each step back into the meadow.

He was surprised to find that the bite didn't hurt this time. In fact, he found that he couldn't feel anything in that leg at all. He stumbled backward, his left leg now feeling like a plastic prosthetic. As he wobbled backward, his numb leg landed in a soft, unstable piece of earth and he tumbled backward. Flash looked up to see about twenty of the creatures now standing in the clearing.

Then, all at once, they swarmed him.

At first, he was able to fend them off, only receiving scratches and bites. However, each bite also came with a small injection of paralytic venom and, as the creatures got various nips and bites in, Flash slowly began to lose control of bitten appendages. His arms and legs slowly became heavier with paralysis, as if someone was piling weights on them, as the toxic venom began to spread through his body.

Though he managed to kill many of the creatures, each time he stabbed one or crushed another, two more would rush out of the jungle to take its place. He lost grip on the spear as his fingers lost their dexterity, and began to swing whatever appendage he still had control of at the creatures, but it did no good.

They knew they had him.

Flash was terrified, lying on the cold, damp ground, now only feeling warm tingling sensations where his arms and legs used to be. His brain was sending desperate signals to his legs to get up and move, but there was no response. Flash was no longer in control of his body. The paralysis slowly seeped out from his limbs, and spread throughout his entire body. The lizards were now excitedly hopping all around him, began to converge on him.

As Flash lay there, unable to move, his last, desperate wish was that it all be over quickly.

Without his neck muscles to support his head, it flopped over to the side and Flash could see the career camp next to the glittering golden cornucopia. He could see the others rolling over in their sleep, amid their respective peaceful dreams.

They did not yet know that Flash was being eaten alive.


	33. Chapter N plus 7

The sound of a cannon firing echoed throughout the arena, effectively waking up everyone who had been able to get to sleep. Jonah Abagnale, who had been sleeping in a small defensive structure he had built into the giant roots of a kapok tree, snapped awake and instinctively grabbed for his spear. He sat quietly and listened for the sounds of danger, but neither heard nor saw anything immediately suspicious.

Still, he was unnerved by the cannon shot and thought back, wondering what his grandfather would do. The victor of the 20th Games had warned him of many things, one of which was that his sense of danger and instincts were not to be ignored in the arena.

Jonah was on his feet now, his palms sweating as they clamped down onto one of his spears. He had convinced himself that he had done everything possible to make himself safe, but the advice of his grandfather now came back to him. He had warned that the safer you felt, the more hazardous your situation becomes, because, don't be fooled, there is no safe place in the arena.

Now fully awake, Jonah crammed his stuff into his pack and dismantled his shelter. He tried to make the remains look like a natural occurrence, but the trace of human touch was impossible to completely erase. Hoping that it would not be enough to leave a trail, Jonah set off into the night in search for a better place to hide.

His plan from the beginning of the games had been to hide and stay out of everyone's way. He planned on reappearing when the crowd had thinned out just a bit more, but until then, he needed a secure place to hold out. Though he had put a lot of thought into the nest he had just left, in retrospect, the middle of a dark jungle at night was probably not the safest place to set up camp.

Silently weaving through the jungle, like many other tributes with similar strategies, he eventually stumbled upon the great electric fence. Jonah had no intention of testing his luck trying to find a way past it, but it turned out that he didn't need to. Jonah's luck prevailed as he caught sight of some sort of a large structure standing near the fence, and he approached it cautiously.

It appeared to be a man-made building, solidly built of plain gray concrete. There were no decorations, though several vines were running up along the south end, as if the jungle was slowly moving in to consume it.

Though it seemed safer than the jungle, he didn't allow himself to be fooled. Once again, his grandfather's words came back to him: places that seemed safe were often the ones rigged to be the most dangerous. There was no way of telling what kind of trap the gamemakers had possibly set and if he misstepped, that would be the end. There were no take-backs or do-overs in the Hunger Games.

There was short stairway leading to a porch and a front door, and Jonah could tell that this would be the way they would expect him to go. Instead, he rounded the building, looking for an alternate way in. There were a few iron barred windows in the concrete structure, but no other door but the one in front. Jonah scoffed, silently asking himself, "Why would an architect design a building with barred windows and only one door?" Answering himself, he responded, "To trap people inside."

Behind the building was a swimming pool. Though filled with water, it was clogged with dead leaves and looked like it had not been tended to in a long time. Just beyond that, Jonah found what he was looking for. One of the large trees leaned out of the jungle close enough to the building that he could climb it and access the roof. Elevated from the jungle floor, he would be able to see dangers coming and be in a superior position to deal with whatever came.

He smiled at this plan, sure that he was outsmarting the gamemakers with this one. He secured two of his spears into his pack, jumped up and grabbed the lowest sturdy branch, and began to climb.

The cannon jolted the careers awake as well, though none of them were really worried by it. It wasn't until a hovercraft roared overhead and stopped at the edge of the meadow that the careers took notice. They all bolted up and stared out at the edge of the jungle, where the hovercraft had stopped to lower its claw to retrieve the body.

A jolt of fear jolted through Chayonna as she realized that Konstance, who was supposed to have been on guard, was missing. She spun around, but only saw the figures of Cassida and Amagi, now armed and ready to fight whatever lurked in the woods beyond.

The three tributes silently made a defensive semi-circle near the cornucopia in the direction of the possible threat, expecting at any moment for some beast or tribute to come barreling out of the woods at them.

When it did, it was not quite what they had expected.

A shadowy figure burst out of the jungle behind them, on the opposite end of the meadow, and they each turned to face it. Catching sight of the figure sprinting across the field toward the cornucopia, they all relaxed when they recognized Konstance running for them.

As soon as he was within earshot, Amagi shot him a quick succession of accusatory inquiries. "What happened? What did you do to Flash? Why were you all the way out there?"

Konstance slowed down as he approached, panting with the exertion of sprinting. "I don't know... I was off checking the traps... we set around the perimeter,... then I heard... the cannon fire. He was here. On watch. I don't know where he is."

Amagi narrowed her eyes, "You mean where he _was_." She motioned up to the hovercraft that was now flying off with Flash's body. "What were you doing over there, anyway?"

Konstance, having now caught his breath, stood his ground. "I was checking the traps. The ones we set earlier?" He decided to omit the part about freeing Berton from one of them. "I was only gone for five minutes!"

Amagi's eyes narrowed as she studied him, but, in the end, she accepted his testimony. "Alright, fine. Well there's something out there."

She pointed her blade toward the edge of the meadow where Flash had been taken, the moonlight gleaming off the sword's edge. "From now on, we move in groups. Whatever or _whom_ever attacked him probably saw that he was injured and alone. If it were me out there, that's what I would have done, anyway."

Cassida scoffed at her. "You probably would have attacked him anyway."

Amagi opened her mouth to respond, but then decided otherwise.

Konstance, sensing disorder growing between the two, interrupted them, changing the subject. "Well fine, but if we're to do this "pairs" thing, someone's going to have to take his spot on guard duty."

Almost before he had finished the sentence, Chayonna chimed in, "I'll take it."

The other three looked at her appraisingly, and Chayonna lowered her gaze, rubbing the back of her head. "I mean I'm not really tired anymore, so..."

Amagi smirked and Cassida snickered at Chayonna's response. "Not tired, huh. Whatever you say." Cassida gave her a playful wink before heading back to her sleeping bag. Amagi shook her head silently and retreated to her nest inside the cornucopia, leaving the two alone by the fire.

Chayonna and Konstance sat in silence for a while, listening only to the croaking of frogs, the chirping of crickets and, eventually, the sound of Cassida rough snoring. Neither really up for talking and with no current danger to attend to, the two stared into the crackling fire as the smoke billowed up into the starry night.

Previously, Chayonna had been able to occupy her mind by reading the manual for tent construction, but now, with nothing to distract it, her mind began to wander. As guilty minds tend to do, it seemed to always somehow find its way back to the source of guilt.

Though the moment had only lasted a few seconds, the image of Percy was burned into her mind. She played the scene over and over in her head, repeatedly watching as Percy swung a knife at her, she deflected it, then swung her own knife into him. Even now, she could still quite clearly see Percy as he groaned and sank to the ground.

The image of his face as the knife found its target haunted her, and she couldn't get it out of her head. She had not looked back, but she knew that the wound would not have been immediately fatal. She could imagine Percy crawling across the ground gripping his stomach, desperately trying to hold on to life as he slowly and painfully bled out.

The wounded Percy in her imagination looked up at her with pitiful eyes, as if to ask, 'Why did you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this? Why did you leave me to such a slow and painful death?' Her guilty conscious, disguised as a wounded Percy, continued to accost her with accusatory questions.

So overwhelmed with the moral questions being thrown around in her head, it took her a moment to recognize that one of the questions had come from somewhere else.

"Why did you volunteer?"

The distinct deep voice was definitely not Percy's. Chayonna looked up from her thoughts as Konstance spoke. It was a strange question, and she wasn't entirely sure she had heard it correctly.

She looked up and shook her head, trying to clear the image of Percy. "What do you mean?"

Konstance repeated the question, this time more sternly. It may have been the remnants of her recent guilt trip about Percy, but she thought that she detected a hint of accusation behind the question.

"Oh." She crossed her legs and leaned back. Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked up at the stars. "The same reason as everyone else, I suppose. I mean, why wouldn't I volunteer? You did too, right?"

Konstance nodded, watching the girl. Calculating his words carefully, he responded, "You just don't seem like the kind of person I would expect to volunteer. That's all."

Chayonna sat back up and looked at Konstance. She hugged her hands over her chest and rocked back and forth several times before saying anything. She wanted to argue with him, and she might have if the memory of Percy hadn't all but obliterated her confidence. Instead, she leaned forward toward Konstance, her voice now slightly shaky. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Konstance solemnly nodded, and his face softened as Chayonna opened up to him.

"Earlier today, when we first entered the arena, I was looking at everyone. Not just you guys, but everyone. All those kids we came here with. I was looking at them all, and I... I just couldn't..." She turned away, hiding her face from Konstance.

After a moment, she finished, "I'm not like you or the others." She motioned toward the snoring Cassida and the cornucopia, where Amagi lay. "You guys can just kill people left and right", she swept her arms around, emphasizing the motion, "and it's no problem for you. But me..." She sighed, "I'm just not made for this."

She stared down into the fire, focusing on a small piece of bark in the very center as the flame slowly consumed it, burning it down until there was nothing left but ash. Her voice trembled slightly as the corners of her mouth fell. "When I attacked Percy... I just... I couldn't... it's just not the same."

Chayonna didn't have to explain for Konstance to understand what she meant. After all, he too had been a part of the bloodbath. Though he had deluded himself with his rage, he had still felt the soul within each individual that he had attacked. He had learned first hand the terrible of a feeling of having a person's life so suddenly ended at his hand. He also knew the heavy weight on the consciousness that comes with becoming a murderer.

Konstance nodded at this, though Chayonna, still gazing into the depths of the fire, didn't see it. Dropping his voice down, Konstance asked, "And can I tell you a secret?"

Chayonna gave a slight nod, and Konstance told her the story of what happened during his watch. How he had argued with Flash, then had gone off into the woods searching for clues about what Amagi had been up to earlier, where he had run into Berton.

She was now captivated with the story, and did not expect this particular twist. "I only heard one cannon. Did you kill him?"

There was a lump in his throat as Konstance responded, "Well that's the thing. I didn't. I let him go." He grimaced at the statement, feeling more vulnerable than he really felt comfortable being. He feared that Chayonna would see him as weak, but she didn't seem to take it that way. Instead, she asked again about Amagi's strange behavior.

"I don't know, she's..." He stopped, and glanced back at the cornucopia where Amagi was supposedly sleeping, then lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. "She's up to something, but I don't know what. That's why I was out there just now."

Chayonna nodded again, and there was a long silence between the two.

Konstance grabbed a small stick and prodded the fire. Flames began to leap from the red coals as charred remains collapsed and was replaced by the unburnt kindling above.

"We don't have to stay with them, you know."

Chayonna nodded, "I know."

They didn't talk much more about it, but they didn't really have to. Though they never verbally acknowledged it, an unspoken agreement formed between them. Neither planned on actively sabotaging the career alliance, but, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, they decided that they would detach from the other careers and silently disappear into the jungle.


	34. Chapter N plus 8

Jerome woke up buried in banana leaves. He had managed to fend off the lizard muttations, though his shelter was now in shambles. The creatures had bitten him several times on his left arm and right leg, and he had lost feeling in both of them. He had spent the rest of the night lying beneath the remains of his old shelter, packing in the leaves around him so that the creatures could not get to him. He had hoped he wasn't sealing himself into a leafy tomb, but the creatures had given up when they couldn't penetrate the tough cellulose.

Jerome was afraid that the paralysis would be permanent, and was relieved when he began to feel the warm pins and needles he normally associated with waking up after having slept on his arm. As the sunshine strengthened, so did his ability to use his limbs and, eventually, function was fully restored. Now that he knew what his enemy was, he devised a plan to deal with them. He spent the following day setting up traps around his campsite, both human size and small lizard size, hoping to at least hinder future attacks long enough for him to be ready for them.

The only other person who had seen the small creatures and lived afterwards was Mikey, though he had all but convinced himself that what he had seen was simply an illusion created by the moonlight and his own fear. He had not seen anything else the rest of the night, and he didn't bother to tell Stella when he woke her for her guard shift. She already probably thought he was a coward and he didn't want to make her think that he was hallucinatory as well.

The next morning, as the sun rose, so did the temperature. Before the sun had even reached the treeline, the air had returned to the miserable hot, muggy state. Mikey woke soaked in sweat, unable to fall back asleep in the intense heat. Nobody else was able to either, so they packed up and continued following the great electric fence, hoping to find a way through or around it.

After almost four hours of walking, they had still not found a single break in the fence. None of them had found a way to collect water that they deemed safe, and they all were severely dehydrated. Consequently, they were almost relieved as clouds gathered and the sky began to darken to a tone that usually preceded rainfall.

In a simultaneous stroke of luck, they finally spotted something of interest- a structure built along the fence line. As they approached it, the clouds finally broke, and it began to rain. The three ran the rest of the way to the concrete building and up the steps to the structure's front porch, which was semi-protected by a reinforced awning. Stella tried the door, but it was locked, so the three soaked tributes sat on the porch as the storm blew over.

Still dehydrated, Stella pulled off the top half of her uniform and held it out in the rain until it soaked through with water. Mikey yelped in surprise and made a show of turning his head away from her as she did this. Glancing over, Stella couldn't help but snicker at the boy's reaction.

"Oh, get over yourself", she laughed as she held up the now soaked uniform over her mouth and squeezed it tight, drinking the collected rainwater as it seeped out. Joule, who was not quite as bothered with Stella's utter lack of modesty, set several giant leaves out in the rain to collect water, then handed one to Mikey, who was still covering his eyes dutifully.

"Fine, fine, I'll put it back on", Stella rolled her eyes at the boy's diffidence. "Just put a leaf out there for me too."

The storm continued well into the afternoon, and, as the day wore on, showed no signs of letting up. Stella had looked into picking the lock of the building, but it was some sort of electrical lock with a keypad. There wasn't a keyhole at all, so Stella didn't even know where to start.

The three sat together in silence as the rain storm beat against the building and gently battered the awning over their heads. The temperature dropped significantly with the arrival of the rain, and they all welcomed the change. After a while, Mikey stood up and walked to one end of the porch, then jumped out into the storm, landing in a puddle with a soft splash.

Stella sat forward and raised an eyebrow at him curiously. "Where are you going?"

"uh... bathroom break", he stuttered.

"Whatever." Stella returned to her lounging position on the porch as Mikey jogged around the corner.

The two girls sat in silence as the wind whipped droplets of tropical rain across the porch, every once in a while hitting them with a soothing blast of cool air. Once the storm had begun, Joule had been content with watching the dazzling patterns the currents of air made as they passed through the sheets of rain.

By now, Stella was used to the girl's silence and closed her eyes and listened to the wind howling eerily through the trees.

Apparently apropos of nothing, without taking her eyes off the swirling currents of rain, Joule uttered, barely louder than a whisper, "I know what you're doing." If Stella hadn't been sitting so close to Joule, she might not have heard her speak at all.

At first, the words meant nothing to her, but as Stella tried to shake it off, she found that she couldn't. The words stuck, then solidified into thick masses and dropped into her stomach like lead weights. Though she tried not to show it, her heart started pounding as she went back over the last few days in her mind. Surely it was nothing, but just in case, she tried to recall all the lies she had told and things she might have done, sifting through them to try to figure out which one Joule was most likely talking about.

Slowly, as if methodically tiptoeing across a room full of tripwires and traps, Stella carefully repeated the girl's statement as a question. "What I'm doing?"

Joule let out an annoyed sigh. "...using him..." Without averting her gaze, she tilted her head slightly toward where Mikey had just left the porch.

Now that she knew what her charges were, her defense mechanisms kicked in. Turning on Joule, she responded indignantly, "Using him? I _saved _him! I took a sword to the back for him!" She jabbed her thumb toward her general area where Flash had stabbed her during their previous encounter. It had healed enough that she couldn't exactly tell where the spot was, but she still managed to make her point.

Still staring out into the pouring rain, Joule sighed again, "Saved... for him?... or for you?..."

Stella began a series of calculated counter-arguments, but stopped when Joule held up her hand. Instead of addressing Stella's rant, she simply stated "It's okay... forgive you... he would too... if he knew."

Stella couldn't decide whether she was more hurt or relieved, but either way, decided that it wasn't worth the effort trying to argue with her. There was no point in trying to argue with Joule; she didn't seem to be listening to her anyway. Instead, she stood up and sulked to the far end of the porch and sat on the edge, letting the rain soak her through.

She couldn't figure out exactly why Joule's words hurt her so much. More precisely, she didn't want to admit it to herself. That she did care what they thought, and it hurt that Joule thought that of her. Though, yes, she had initially joined with Mikey begrudgingly on orders from her mentor, but she hadn't counted on them actually accepting her.

Shortly after, she was broken from these moody thoughts by Mikey, who had returned

"Hey, um, I got these for you." His voice was shaky and unsure as he handed her a batch of brilliant purple orchids.

Stella just stared at the flowers, scowling at the offering. After a few silent moments, Mikey stuttered, "Well, you know, back.. uh... a couple of days ago, you said that...you know... nobody ever got you flowers or anything, and I just thought that... uh..."

Mikey's voice trailed off, but Stella wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. She just stared, mesmerized, at the brilliant purple bulbs that were already beginning to wilt from being severed at the stem.

She had been only kidding about the flowers, of course; she didn't even think he had heard her, but here they were. What Stella was struggling to understand was why he had even bothered to do such a thing in the first place. Nobody had ever cared about her or what happened her, and it felt strange having something done explicitly for her. It was a nice feeling, but she didn't trust it, and certainly didn't know how she was supposed to react.

She didn't quite understand why she should care about this or about what Joule thought of her. It was so painfully tender to admit to herself that she didn't say it to anyone, including herself. That she did care about them; they were family.

Luckily, she didn't have to worry about the proper reaction, because they were both distracted by a solid clunking sound on the far end of the porch. Stella and Mikey looked over expectantly at Joule, but even Joule was caught off guard by the object that had so suddenly clattered onto the porch.

All three of them stood walked over to the object, happy to finally have something new and interesting to investigate. The object rested solidly on the ground, though a white cloth attached to it was still fluttering in the thrashing wind.

It was another sponsor gift.

Mikey reached it first, and pulled the cloth covering off of the top, tucking it away for later. Then, he cheerfully held up the basket beneath the cloth for the other two to see. Checking inside, he saw that it was almost overflowing with food of all sorts. He sat the basket down in the center of the porch and they all sat down and began picking away at it.

Not too far away, the careers had also been caught off-guard by the storm. They had been combing the jungle for tributes, but so far had come up empty. Now that the storm had started, they were all thinking about heading back to the meadow to gather rain gear, when something caught their attention.

It was Chayonna who spotted it first.

Though the downpour had decreased visibility immensely, she still managed to spot a glint of silver floating out above the trees. If the arena and Flash's recent death hadn't made her hyper-aware, she may not have paid any attention to it, but as it were, she hurriedly pointed out the anomaly to the others. Amagi's cold, miserable scowl slowly morphed into a sinister smile.

It took Chayonna a second to recognize what she was looking at, but by then, Amagi had called to Cassida and Konstance, and all four careers stood and watched as the sponsor gift, supported by a silvery-white parachute, floated down below the treeline to the west.

Bored from sitting around with nothing to do, Cassida's excitement was palpable as she rallied the troops. Without Flash to hold her back, she picked up her sword and hurtled off into the jungle toward where the parachute dropped. Amagi fell in behind her and the two ran off, splashing through the puddles that were beginning to form on the forest floor.

Konstance hesitated before following, briefly glancing over at Chayonna. They were both thinking the same thing. They didn't have to follow the other career tributes. Though they had thus far, they weren't bound by any law that required them to do anything. However, breaking the alliance was a permanent decision, and Konstance wasn't quite sure he was prepared to make it.

There would be a time to break the alliance, and when it came, he would readily take it, but now was not that time. He was sure that the right opportunity would present itself, but until then, they would have to be patient.

Konstance silently shook his head at her, then chased after Amagi. After a slight hesitation, Chayonna ran after him, and the four remaining careers were back on the hunt.


	35. Chapter N plus 9

The top of the concrete building was flat and covered in smooth gravel, though it seemed structurally sound. There was a two-foot tall lip around the roof that could provide cover from tributes on the ground. From his elevated position, Jonah could detect any tributes approaching far before they would notice that he was there, and he could also see that the electric fence stretched as far as he could see in both directions. There was a door on the roof that he supposed led down into the building, but when he tried it, he found that it was locked. The only other way onto the roof was by climbing the tree, and he laid several tripwires among the branches to alert him if anyone was trying to climb it. As far as Jonah could tell, the roof of the building was the perfect defensive position.

Then it started to rain.

As the rain began to fall, Violet had dedicated herself even more to finding a way to survive. Now that she had calmed down considerably, information from the training center began readily coming back to her. With a newfound confidence, she gathered supplies from the jungle nearby, then set about building a shelter. As the rain fell, she stacked several sturdy branches for supports, then wove palm leaves together along the outside to block out the worst of the rain. The dilapidated structure was not exactly what she had originally had in mind, but it kept her relatively dry, and she was proud of that. With every small victory, Violet began to believe more and more in herself.

Jonah, on the other hand, was starting to second-guess his decisions. As the storm rolled in, he began hastily making preparations for the inevitable rain. Crouched down, he was so focused on stuffing his supplies back into his pack to protect them from the weather that he didn't notice the tributes approaching him until they were literally on his doorstep.

He froze as he heard someone try to open the front door of the building, and was relieved when whoever it was discovered it to be locked. The downpour of rain obscured the sound, but now that he was listening for it, he could definitely hear the voices of tributes below him. He couldn't see them, but from the voices, he could hear two of them sitting on the porch right below his position. He cautiously peered over the side, but the awning over the porch obstructed his view.

He spread a weather-proof jacket that he had found in the pack over the rest of his supplies and decided to just wait them out. If they didn't know he was there, they likely wouldn't bother him. There was no reason to unnecessarily risk his life.

Thinking that he must have indeed outsmarted the gamemakers, he smiled at his own ingenuity. They had not planned on him getting up here, and now that they couldn't reach him, they would try to lure him down. Jonah chuckled at the thought, deciding to not give them the satisfaction. He silently moved across the roof until he found a spot where the wind blew in such a way that he could better hear the tributes below him.

When he heard the familiar beeping pattern of a sponsor gift, his spirits lifted momentarily, but they soon dropped again as the parachute floated well over his head, then landed on the porch below. From the scent that wafted up, he concluded that the sponsor gift must have been food of some sort, and quite delicious food by the smell of it.

They're trying to make me move, but it's not going to happen, Jonah smugly thought to himself. I won't let them control me.

As the day wore on, the storm grew in intensity, and the cool drops of rain that had been so refreshing earlier were now starting to feel like pellets from a BB gun as they flew in sideways and sank into his skin. Though staying out on the rooftop was becoming more painful every passing minute, Jonah stubbornly decided to sit on the roof and wait the storm out.

If this had been a regular summer storm, it would have rolled on by. However, this was a gamemaker storm; it had a purpose and was not going to stop until its purpose was fulfilled. Jonah, now lying face down on the roof, had pulled the jacket over his head to try to stymie the forceful rain.

On the exposed roof, there was no shelter from the onslaught of the storm. The clouds darkened and the wind picked up. With the gale force winds thrashing at him, Jonah was not even sure if he would be able to climb back down the tree if he had to. He was starting to entertain the idea of jumping off the roof and aiming for the swimming pool, when door on the roof slowly creaked open. Peering out of his protective layer through folds in the jacket, he saw that the electric keypad next to the door had gone dark and the now open doorway revealed the nice, dry interior, beckoning Jonah to enter.

Down below, on the porch of the concrete structure, Mikey, Stella, and Joule were enjoying a nice lunch provided by a combination of one or more of their sponsors. However, as the storm picked up and the wind began whipping sheets of rain at higher speeds, even the awning-covered porch didn't protect them. The summer shower was quickly evolving into somewhat of a tropical storm, and the sheets of rain, which had previously been lightly dancing around, were now so thick that they could no longer even see the treeline.

With nowhere safer to go, the three tributes huddled together on the porch as they were repeatedly hammered by swirling blasts of wind and water. Somewhere between the howling of the wind and the crackles of thunder, they heard a loud crash originating from somewhere startlingly close by. Looking up, they saw that the door on the porch had somehow unlocked and the force of the wind had caused the now unlatched door to fly open. The crash had come from the door slamming inward into an unseen wall.

The three suspiciously eyed the now open door, leading into the darkened interior of the structure. Though this serendipitous turn of events seemed ominous, given their situation, they decided that they would be safer with whatever lay inside than if they remained outside in the tropical storm.

Slowly and cautiously, the three tributes stepped into the building.

The career tributes crashed through the jungle, unfazed by the flashes of lightning or the powerful winds ripping apart the trees above them. They were too focused on tracking down the parachute to worry about anything else. Cassida led the way, hacking vines and shrubs out of her path as she galloped through the jungle.

Following Amagi and Cassida deeper into the jungle, Konstance was beginning to second guess his decision to leave the meadow. He didn't feel comfortable out here, and with every passing second, was more certain that Cassida was getting them all irreversibly lost.

However, his fears turned out insubstantial as the four careers all burst out of the dense jungle foliage one after the other onto a paved surface. Though the rain allowed very limited visibility, Cassida's course had been true and they had somehow emerged from the jungle only several meters away from a small structure, next to which lay the silver parachute they had been seen earlier.

The four career tributes approached the structure and peered inside.

The small structure, made up of branches and leaves, was swaying and cracking in the tumultuous winds, but it was holding up quite well considering the conditions. Though it threatened to collapse at any moment, its inhabitant was too preoccupied with trying to start a fire to notice.

Cassida couldn't help but burst out laughing at the sight.

Violet stopped what she was doing and looked up in surprise at the sound as Cassida's guffawing laughter. When she realized that the four careers were standing just outside her hut, she froze, completely forgetting about the match in her hand and the small pile of tinder on the ground.

There were four career tributes standing before her, which meant it would be useless to fight even if she did have any weapons. She certainly couldn't escape or distract them. There was nothing she could do.

She was now at their mercy.

Amagi began to draw her sword, but Cassida cut in first. "Hey, what it this?!" She addressed Violet, motioning toward the now splintering structure. "This is no way to build a shelter!"

Amagi turned toward Cassida and raised an eyebrow with intrigued suspicion. Ignoring Amagi, Casida ducked inside the small shelter and pulled out a roll of wire from the small pack she was carrying. There was barely room for both her and Violet inside the tiny structure, and the two were pressed up against each other.

"You have to secure it better. Like this!" With this, Cassida, deftly tied together several of the supporting structures, effectively securing them down. "Can I get behind you real quick?" She pushed Violet out of the way so she could reach the last support in the back. Violet, confused with the career tribute's behavior, had no other option but to play along, giving Cassida the room she needed.

"Okay, now we have to secure it to the outside. Come on!" Cassida pulled Violet up and led her out into the rain. Cassida secured the last bits of wire around the outside so that the structure, which had previously been inches away from collapsing, was now solidly secured, stubbornly resisting the forceful wind and rain. Cassida nodded at the structure, satisfied with her work. "Perfect!"

Violet, who had been awkwardly standing out in the rain next to the other careers, meekly asked "Thanks... um... so... what now?"

Cassida pulled her sword out, and Violet shuddered away from her, taking small steps backward. However, Cassida only used the sword to knock lightly on the base of the structure, double checking the stability. "What now? Nothing really, this thing should be good through just about anything! Unless a tornado rolls through or something, but if that happens, then you have bigger problems than whether or not your shelter is still standing, you know what I mean?"

Still slowly backing up, Violet suddenly jumped forward as she bumped into something. Turning, she found herself face to face with the large, intimidating figure of Konstance. She let out a small squeal as she jumped back into the center of the small circle the career tributes were now making.

Turning back toward Cassida, who was still scrutinizing the structure, Violet asked hesitantly, "So... are you letting me go?"

Cassida glanced up at Violet in surprise, as if she had forgotten that Violet was even there. "Huh? Oh, right. Hunger games and what not." Cassida scrutinized the girl for a second, then smiled viciously. "Tell you what. I like you. I'll give you a chance. I know you didn't know, but today is my birthday. Here's the deal: if you sing 'Happy Birthday' to me, I'll let you go. Oh, and you should know that we have this custom in District 4. You have to hold your nose and hop on one foot as you sing it. It shows respect to the guest of honor." She motioned lavishly to herself.

"What?" Violet's reaction was in disbelief more than anything else.

"Well it's either that or let Amagi here slice you up. Your choice."

Violet was trembling from fear and from the cold as she looked up from Cassida, who was tapping her foot impatiently, to Amagi, who was already reaching for a katana. Certainly not wanting to be sliced up, she mustered up what willpower she had left and held her nose and began to sing. The song sounded more like a funeral dirge than a celebratory song as she sang and dutifully hopped on one foot every five or six words.

Cassida watched with glee, trying to stifle her laughter, though the other careers weren't quite as interested in seeing this display. Amagi, who had become increasingly bored with Cassida's games, finally stepped in and ended Violet's embarrassment with a single sweep of her sword. Violet fell to the ground as a cannon sounded throughout the arena.

As if Amagi had just broken her favorite toy, Cassida began pouting. "What was that for? She was almost at the best part!"

"Were you really going to let her go?" Amagi asked incredulously.

"What? Oh, no, no. I just wanted to see if she'd do it." The vicious smile once again found its way onto Cassida's face.

"Then I don't see a problem", Amagi flatly stated, staring daggers at Cassida.

"Yea, whatever." Deciding that she never really liked that girl from District 7 anyway, Cassida now turned her attention to the sponsor gift, a bowl of beef stew. "Oh, look! Free food!"

Violet had not even had a chance to retrieve it before the careers had arrived, and it was still steaming as Cassida picked it up and broke the seal. She sniffed the bowl daintily, letting out a satisfied sigh, then held it up to the cameras. "Thanks District 7!"

Still smiling with sinister glee, she slowly tipped the contents of the sponsor gift out onto the muddy ground, the vegetables and broth diluting in the rainwater. After doing so, she dramatically gasped "Oops! I guess I spilled it!"

Looking down at the bits of stew now washing away in the torrential rain, she slowly shook her head. "All that District 7 money for nothing...Oh well."

She turned back to the other career tributes, suddenly excited again. "Well, that was fun! So what's next?"


	36. Chapter N plus 10

Only the sound of the rain pattering in the soft mud could be heard as the other careers stared in silence at Cassida. Even the periodically sadistic Amagi had been slightly uncomfortable with what she had just done to Violet.

"Was that really necessary?" Konstance glowered. He didn't want to admit it, but this girl was starting to scare him.

"Oh, sweetie", Cassida glided over toward Konstance. "You didn't like it?"

Before she could get too close, Chayonna pushed herself in between the two. "He's just saying that you didn't have to string her along like that."

Cassida's face darkened as she closed in on Chayonna. "First you complain when I do kill them, then you complain when I don't kill them. Will you make up your mind?" She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. "Sheesh. What do I have to do to make you guys happy?"

"You should've just thrown her into the electric fence."

All three of them were surprised to hear Amagi's voice, and turned to see her now wearing a sinister smile. "I've never seen anyone electrocuted before."

They all gazed at the giant structure next to which Violet had built her shelter.

Cassida, her attention now away from Konstance and Chayonna, approached Amagi. "Well gosh, you know, that would be a great plan if that fence was, in fact, electrified."

Amagi raised an eyebrow. "Of course it's electrified. It's exactly like the ones around the districts! Why wouldn't it be electrified?"

Cassida made a show of rolling her eyes indignantly. "Please! They're just trying to scare us. Most of the time, there's no electricity flowing through the fences at all. Back home, we used to sneak out all the time! We just push the cables aside and go right through!"

Amagi's smile widened. "Oh, well if you're so sure it's safe, then why don't you show us? Just go up and grab that cable right there. Go on."

Cassida surveyed the fence, then turned back to Amagi, smiling confidently.

"Maybe I will", she shot back.

"Fine, do it, then." Amagi sat back, arms folded, and tapped her foot impatiently. "It's right there. Go ahead."

For a brief moment, Cassida and Amagi stared at each other coldly, then Cassida turned and slowly walked toward the great fence. Chayonna and Konstance shot a quick glance at each other, both taking small steps back, getting distance between themselves and inevitable fireworks show.

Neither dared to interfere as Cassida held her arms up, took several quick breaths, then, all at once, reached out and grabbed the wiring of the fence.

She immediately began to scream.

Jonah briefly looked up from his perch on top of the concrete structure. He thought he had heard someone shrilly screaming, but he soon dismissed it as just the howling of the wind. The storm had really picked up now, and he was having trouble staying on his feet. At this rate, the wind would soon be strong enough to blow him completely off the roof.

It was the sound of the cannon that finally allowed temptation get the best of him. Mistaking it for thunder, Jonah crawled across the roof of the building and entered the shelter of the stairway to escape the path of subsequent lightning strikes. Leaving his pack in the crook of the door, he grabbed a spear and brandished it in front of him as he slowly edged down the stairs.

He was only a few steps down when he heard the sound of something dragging across the floor. He braced for something to jump out at him from the darkness until he realized that the sound was coming from behind him. He turned just in time to see the wind blow the pack out of path of the door. He rushed back up the stairs, but the door had already begun to swing closed. He jumped and thrusted out his spear to catch the door, but it was too late. The heavy door swung shut behind him, locking him in, leaving him in almost complete darkness.

Fear tried to overtake him, but Jonah willed it away. He sat down and took several slow, deep breaths until the fear subsided. All of his supplies were in his pack on the roof, but they weren't necessarily out of his reach. He would just have to wait the storm out, then go around and climb back up when the storm blew over. If not, then he could always come back later and pry the door open with his spear.

The situation could be far worse.

Looking down the stairs, the interior of the building was cloaked in darkness except for the sparsely applied emergency lights that lined the relatively blank walls. As Jonah sat near the top of the stairs coming up with a new plan of action, his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. He wasn't too excited about walking right into a gamemaker's trap, but there was nowhere to go but down. Wary of probable danger, he grabbed his spear and silently descended the stairs.

Out in the storm, Cassida was screaming. Her scream caused Chayonna to scream, and the chilling sound that followed echoed out through the storm. Cassida's eyes fluttered and her whole body spasmed as she clutched the fence tightly.

After a while, she was still.

Then, she let out an uproarious burst of laughter as she turned to face the three tributes behind her. "I scared you, didn't I?" She shook the fence again, and the rattling wave bounced out to the support posts and back. "I told you they didn't electrify the fences. It's all just a scare tactic."

Amagi was not amused. If anything, she was let down that she once again been denied the chance to see someone get electrocuted. "That's not funny."

"Oh, come on, lighten up, will you? I'm just trying to have some fun." Cassida jumped down from the fence and landed in the mud with a soft splash.

"Well so much for hunting. You probably just scared off everyone in a three mile radius."

The two careers were staring each other down again, so Konstance cut in. "We should probably head back, anyway. It looks like this storm is picking up."

Cassida and Amagi turned their mutual dislike of each other toward Konstance as they both stood glaring at him.

"Oh, fine", Cassida sulked. Crossing the road, she headed back into the jungle, and the rest of the careers followed suit.

It was a long, uncomfortable walk back to the meadow as the storm's intensity slowly increased. Though the trees were shielding them from the worst of it, they could still feel the wind and the rain pelting them as they trudged through the soaking jungle.

Their clothes were drenched by the summer storm, and the once warm, temperate climate had quickly become cold and miserable. Konstance could feel his damp socks dragging against his ankles with every step and it was beginning to rub his skin raw.

Amagi spoke up, voicing all of their analogous thoughts. "So... on a scale from one to completely lost, would you say that you are..."

Before she could even finish the sentence, Cassida whipped around, her hair flinging off droplets of water as she spun. "Look here, sister. I don't need any of your attitude. For your _information_, the cornucopia just happens to be just up that hill." She pointed up a small ravine as she said it. "If you want to wander off some other direction, go right ahead. Just make sure you give Flash my regards."

She turned back to scale the ravine, but continued to berate Amagi as she did so. "... you think I can control the weather? Do you think that I like running around in this? Ugh! And this awful suit! The top of this uniform is totally chafing my..." When she broke the tree line at the top of the ravine, she abruptly went silent.

Her sudden halt caused a chain reaction of career tributes behind her all running into each other. There was a round of complaints, but as they all crossed the top of the ravine and stepped into the clearing themselves, they also fell silent.

"Are you sure this is the same meadow?" Chayonna's question was completely rhetorical, for the golden cornucopia still gleamed in the center, but that was the only resemblance of what the place had once been. Otherwise, the place looked like a war zone. The supplies that had once been stacked up neatly next to the cornucopia had been either dragged off or toppled over and destroyed. What little supplies did remain were trampled beyond recognition, and certainly beyond usable condition.

It almost looked as if a stampede had rushed through the meadow in their absence. As they crossed the meadow toward the cornucopia, they began to see tracks of various shapes and sizes that became more concentrated near the center. Though they were concerned about the loss of supplies, they were more worried by these strange creatures, and whether or not they were still around.

Cassida and Amagi had now dropped their quarrels and, for the time being, were bound together by a similar fear of the unknown. They studied the three-toed tracks, trying to figure out what they were up against. It looked like a rather sizable group of small to medium size birds had flocked across the field in their absence.

Amagi was crouched on the ground now, studying the three-toed tracks. "That must be why Flash couldn't fight them off. There were so many of them." She placed her hand down beside one of the larger ones, which was reached almost from her palm to the tips of her fingers. Looking up at Cassida grimly, she stated, "We're not safe here."

"Hey, come look at this!" Konstance yelled. He motioned everyone over, where he was staring at one animal track in particular. The other three careers gathered around and checked out the track he was pointing to. There was a puddle forming inside of it as it gathered rainwater, and though the muddy walls were beginning to collapse, the track was enormous. A meter and a half long, Cassida was easily able to put her foot down inside it without touching the sides.

"I don't even want to know what made that track", Chayonna gasped in wonderment.

Just as she said it, there was a shattering of limbs and crackling of leaves underfoot as something stepped out of the jungle behind them, cutting off their escape route. The creature let out a low, rumbling growl as they all turned to face it.

As she caught sight of it, Amagi flatly stated, "Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me."


	37. Chapter N plus 11

Mikey, Stella, and Joule cautiously entered the building. The concrete structure seemed even more stable on the inside, where it was reinforced with thick steel bars and iron plates. Stella couldn't help but comment about how she had seen a similar structure on the inside of the train that she had raided during her last heist.

When she heard this, Joule, still standing in the doorway, stopped in her tracks. She raised her left arm and pointed accusingly at Stella. "It was you... you were... thief."

"What?" Mikey and Stella both responded at once, not sure who exactly she was addressing. The two looked at each other, then back at Joule expectantly.

She was silent for a while, her face darkening as her thoughts churned away at something. Then she cleared her throat, the sound reverberating off the walls of the otherwise silent room. She looked up with a truly tormented look on her face. "I'm so sorry...my fault", she choked. "My fault... my fault." She repeated it several times, shaking her head with shame.

Mikey instinctively went over to comfort her. "Hey, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"No", Joule shook her head again, collecting herself. "It's my fault... got reaped." Mikey tried to comfort her once again, but she pushed him away.

"No, you don't... don't understand."

She closed her eyes tightly, balling her hands into fists. She was concentrating on finding the right words. "It's my fault.. all of us.. got reaped..so sorry" She braced herself, as if expecting any moment to be struck with a blunt object. "I guess.. doesn't matter anymore... now we're... in the games."

This particular sentence grabbed even Stella's attention, and she moved in closer to listen.

Joule squeezed her eyes closed, straining to find the right words. "I guess.. I really didn't.. think it would work... too many.. many variables."

Stella and Mikey stood gaping at Joule. It was the most that either had ever heard her speak at once. Mikey, who wanted to hear the rest of the story, but was afraid of what he might hear, coaxed her to continue. "What do you mean?"

Joule's smile formed a grimace as she continued. "You know about.. power outages?.. We blew the solar grid.. needed a distraction.. get into the Capitol."

Mikey scowled, confused by what he thought she was trying to say. He remembered the power outages, but he had been told that it was caused by the savages that roamed the land outside the fences. He had so many questions that he didn't know where to start. "Hang on, they told us that it was the raiders that broke into District 5. You know, the evil bands of pirates that we built the electric fences to keep out? And why would you want to do that to the Capitol in the first place?"

Joule cocked her head, confused. "You don't know?.. He didn't tell you?.. thought you knew.."

Mikey shook his head, suddenly worried that he had missed out on something. "Knew what? Who would tell me?"

Suddenly, in the midst of all of this, Joule let out a laugh; a real, genuine laugh. It was a strange sound coming from the girl, but Mikey and Stella couldn't help but smile as well as the feeling spread to them. Between fits of giggling, Joule explained, "your dad's idea... blow up the Capitol... like they blew up your mother... was a wonderful idea."

Stella, now seeing how serious the situation was, became suddenly urgent. "What? There's no way you could do that! You can't just blow up the Capitol! There's no way that would work. There's too much security..." Stella was now working out the details in her head. "...and the Capitol is huge! You would need a lot of explosives to make it work. And they'd have to be high-grade stuff too..." Stella's voice trailed off as she now considered the possibility. "... and how would you coordinate something like that?"

Joule nodded at all of these questions. "Jumpers..have a system..of messages."

Stella lit up at the mention of the jumpers, though this only confused Mikey more. "The jumpers?"

The jumpers were the heroes of folk tales in District 6, and the thought of them always excited Stella. "Yea! They're legend! They ride the rails! They hide out in supply crates or feed bins or whatever, then ride off to other districts. You've gotta be really smart to do it. Memorize the schedules and patterns and everything. Even then, you've got to be lucky. You never know when there's going to be a surprise inspection, and that's it. It's dangerous. Most of them never come back." Her voice trailed off as she thought about them. They weren't exactly friends of hers, but most of them were decent people.

Joule's voice now had gone flat, the laughter long gone. "It doesn't matter.. they found out.. led them right to it."

The treachery in her own district hit home for Stella. None of the jumpers she knew would have told the peacekeepers anything, even if it meant their death. "District 6? Look, I don't know how it is in District 5, but I don't know anybody who would talk to peacekeepers about a plan like that, even if it meant getting killed for it."

Joule was silent for a moment, trying to judge how Stella would respond to her next statement, then replied. "Well...you did."

Stella, now offended, retorted, "What?! What are you talking about? I've never done anything so wretched!"

"It's okay.. you didn't know.. were following you."

Stella calmed a bit now, trying to figure out what Joule was trying to say. "What do you mean 'following me'?"

"You're...the thief...they followed you." As Joule said this, she pointed up to the ceiling. Looking up, Stella couldn't see anything but the same crossed beams reinforcing the roof that she had noticed earlier. It took her a second to realize that Joule was referring to her last heist. The one that had gone horribly wrong. The one where she had lost Rachel. Her voice suddenly dropped as the memory came back.

"Oh. Wait, so it's my fault? You actually had this plan? ...And it was ruined. By me. I ruined it." She pronounced the last few words slowly and carefully, coming to terms with it.

Joule sympathized, "It's okay.. you didn't know.. not your fault."

There was a silence between them as Stella realized the bigger implications of the night they had decided to rob a Capitol train. Someone had planned to attack the Capitol, and she had blown the entire plan. She had led them right to the weapon.

It was her fault that the plan failed.

Stella felt like her heart had stopped, realizing how easily it all could have been prevented if only she had not carried out that heist. The plan might have worked. Rachel would still be alive. The games might have been suspended or ended entirely, and she would be somewhere else right now. Her imagination taunted her, dangling these dangerously hopeful thoughts in front of her, keeping them just out of her reach.

After a while, Joule broke the silence. "Didn't you see them?..When you broke in?..What did you think.. they were?.."

Stella was holding her head in her hands now, agonizing over all the little things she could have done to prevent all of this. "I don't know what I though they were. We were told that the shipment was more valuable than anything else coming through. We were expecting jewels or silver or gold or something like that. How could we have known..."

Stella thought back, remembering the smooth, metallic casings. Something else struck her; something that had bothered her even way back then. She remembered clearly seeing the words "District 13" stenciled in fading white paint. Lifting her head from her hands, she asked, "Where would you even get bombs like that? Are you saying that District 13 is..."

Joule shook her head. "No... no District 13... destroyed..gone."

Stella furrowed her brow, confused. "But I remember reading District 13. It was printed on the casings. If District 13's gone, where did you get them?"

Joule's smile returned. "Dug them up... while clearing farmland.. District 11."

Mikey jumped in, countering, "Wait, what? You can't just dig up bombs. Did they plant bomb trees or something? How did they get there? And how did you even find them?"

"Dropped.. during wars... didn't detonate.. rusted over.. but still good."

Stella was silenced with wonder, and Mikey, who was coming to several internal revelations, said to nobody in particular, "The detonators. That's what he was working on. That must have been what he was working on."

Joule nodded vigorously, adding "the lock too." Then she motioned toward Stella, adding, "She broke it..the thief...her."

Mikey looked over at Stella, now with disbelief in his eyes. "Her? She broke my lock? Impossible. That lock was unbreakable. I made sure of it."

Stella couldn't hold in her grin as she listened to Mikey boasting about his supposedly unbreakable lock.

As he saw Stella's grin widen, Mikey stopped. He recalled how easily Stella had been able to break out of her dormitory and into his recovery room at the hospital, and started to second-guess himself. "I mean I'm pretty sure it was. I think, right?" He looked over at Stella, now in disbelief.

Stella's smile had grown wider as she listened to Mikey, and couldn't help feeling extra proud of herself. "Well if it makes you feel better, it took me thirty minutes."

Mikey's mouth dropped open, and Stella, so elated that she feared she might explode, just shrugged. "Sorry. I can't help it if I'm awesome."

Mikey wanted to be mad, but found himself laughing at the girl's cheekiness instead. Suddenly, the complete absurdity of it all hit him. "Hey, but small world, right? I mean what are the chances of all three of us being reaped in the same year? Right?"

Joule scowled at Mikey, confused at his reaction. "Not..funny."

Mikey, still laughing, replied, "What do you mean? It's a little funny. You know, all of us randomly getting reaped at the same time. I mean it sucks, but it's kind of a cool coincidence."

Joule furrowed her brow, and her scowl deepened. "Not..coincidence."

Suddenly, Stella's elation disappeared as a thought occurred to her. It was an awful thought, and somehow, it scared her more than anything else she had encountered thus far. "She's right. Your dad built the detonators, I broke into the train, she set up the power failure..." Her voice trailed off as she worked through the logic. She didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was undeniable.

Mikey was still chuckling at the irony. "Yea, I know! What are the chances that..."

Stella stepped in, cutting Mikey off. "Don't you get it?" Stella's stern tone made Mikey stop laughing. Stella was now staring at the ground, shaking her head. "It's not a coincidence. They want to silence us. Bury it. Make sure that it stays a secret." She slowly looked up, making sure that Mikey was listening. "And what better way than to use the games?"

Mikey, stopped laughing, finally beginning to understand. "But that's not possible, the reapings are random..." He stopped mid-sentence as he said this, as if only by stating it out loud could he finally realize the truth.

The reapings weren't random. It wasn't a coincidence, and it most definitely was not funny.

Struck by the complete unfairness of the whole situation, Mikey argued, "Well what if one of us wins? They can't keep us from telling everyone..."

Stella cut him off, her voice sharp and stern. "That's exactly what they're doing! Don't you get it? We're not supposed to win! That's the point! That's why they put us here in the first place!" She paused, letting this sink in before finishing, expressing the thoughts that all three of them were coming to terms with.

"Do you have any idea how unlikely it is that any of us will get out of this alive?"


	38. Chapter N plus 12

Behind the careers, one of the gamemaker's creations stepped out of the woods, blocking their retreat. It was a single lizard muttation, though this one stood about three meters tall, towering over all of them. As it revealed itself from the jungle, it turned out to be nearly twelve meters long from head to tail. The enormous dark green lizard walked with its spine and tail parallel to the ground as it approached.

"Well, they've got a good imagination, you've got to give them that", Amagi distastefully stated as she drew her swords.

Cassida yelled out to nobody in particular. "I'm pretty sure she explicitly stated she _did not _want to see what made that track!" She turned to Chayonna, "Am I right?"

Chayonna, too focused on getting prepared for what was looking to be a truly harrowing battle, didn't respond. She couldn't help but remember complaining that the enemies she faced during the bloodbath weren't the evil anthropomorphic wolf. But now that she was faced with a truly evil enemy, she almost wished that she were back fighting Percy again. She made a mental note to be more careful about what she wished for in the future.

All four careers spread out, creating a defensive semi-circle, and pulled out their respective weapons. Looking at his allies' weapons, Konstance suddenly felt peculiarly inadequate facing this particular foe with only his two short, compact sais.

The two parties stared at each other in a standoff, then the creature took off. It shot at them with incredible speed for a creature its size, issuing a bellowing roar as it approached.

It first veered toward Amagi, sweeping its jaws down to sweep here up. However, she was prepared for this, and was able to jump out of the way, bringing her katana up to strike the creature's jaw. The tough skin only caused the katana to bounce off, and no damage was inflicted to either her or the great lizard.

Breaking through the line, it split the careers into two groups. The beast turned to face Amagi and Cassida, putting the other two at its back. Konstance and Chayonna, who were both focused on the mouth full of razor sharp teeth, did not see the tail whipping around until it was too late. It hit Konstance in the abdomen, and Chayonna square in the chest, and both went flying backward.

The giant lizard let out another deafening roar at the two tributes now in front of it, causing both Cassida and Amagi to take several reflexive steps back, away from the beast. With Amagi and Cassida retreating, the great lizard turned and advanced toward to the two tributes it had knocked back with its tail.

Chayonna hit the ground hard, and the breath was knocked out of her. She rolled over and got to her hands and knees, gagging, trying to get a breath of air. As her lungs began recovering, she noticed that the air she was breathing stank of sour meat. Looking up, she saw nothing but the gaping jaws of the great lizard drawing toward her.

She caught her breath just in time to let out a great scream at the lizard's jaws enveloped her.

Cassida rushed the creature, jumping onto the side of its head, and started beating it with her sword, yelling the battle cry of a crazed Amazonian warrior. Though the blade couldn't quite puncture the giant lizard's tough scaly skin, it was enough to distract the creature, who dropped Chayonna to face this new adversary.

The giant lizard whipped its head around in an attempt to shake Cassida off. To her credit, she lasted a full three seconds before falling to the ground, now laughing maniacally. "Is that all you've got? Come on! I'm right here!" Taunting the creature, she ran off toward the center of the meadow.

Konstance, only now getting up, checked to make sure that he had not been seriously injured, then rushed over to Chayonna. "Hey, are you okay?"

Chayonna, though bruised where the lizard's teeth had held her, was not otherwise physically injured, but she was unresponsive. The mental shock of her near-death experience had caused her to go into a nearly catatonic state. Hyperventilating, she just stared blankly up at Konstance, unable to move or respond.

He knew that any second, the creature could suddenly decide to change its mind about Cassida and return to them. When that happened, he wanted to at least have the cover of the jungle for protection. He pulled her to her feet, and urged her to move toward the jungle. "Come on. Let's go. They can take care of themselves."

Chayonna babbled something in return, though whether it was a consent or argument, Konstance couldn't tell. She began dragging her feet as he pulled her along and, in the end, he lifted her bodily into the air, threw her over his shoulder, and ran for the jungle.

Amagi watched as Cassida sprinted across the field toward her, yelling as she went. "Cornucopia! Cornucopia!"

Amagi turned to look behind her, and immediately understood what Cassida was trying to say. Among the wreckage of the meadow stood the untouched golden cornucopia, the mouth's opening only large enough for the two of them to fit in. They would be trapped, and if it didn't work, they would be dead, but, honestly, their weapons all but useless against these creatures, they would probably be dead anyway if it they stayed out in the open.

Amagi also sprinted into the mouth of the cornucopia, and looked back just in time to see Cassida diving in behind her. Amagi grabbed Cassida's hand and helped her up just as the great lizard's head burst in behind them. They were blasted with a wave of hot, sour air as the creature gnashed its teeth angrily at them.

Cassida's instincts had been right about the safety of the structure. The giant lizard thrashed its head around, trying in vain to wedge its massive jaws into the opening, but its jaws were simply too big. Eventually, it settled down, and it began sniffing the air. Though it couldn't see them, it knew that they were in there, and was frustrated that it couldn't get to them.

Cassida let out a great cheer, though it turned out to be a bit too soon.

The massive jaws opened once again, revealing a long, black muscular tongue that snaked out between its rows of long pointed teeth. The black tongue moved purposefully through the cornucopia, systematically exploring the smooth walls inside.

The slimy appendage reeked of rotten flesh, and left patches of sticky white foam where it touched the walls. As it swung back and forth across the opening, Cassida leaped out and sliced it. The wound gushed violently, covering the entire front of her uniform with hot blood. The lizard let out a deafening roar that reverberated through the walls of the cornucopia, and Cassida let go of her sword to cover her ears. The tongue spasmed a bit, then retracted, leaving behind a long, bloody trail.

The great lizard let out one more bellowing roar, then stomped off, each thunderous step vibrating the ground beneath them. The two career tributes waited inside the cornucopia for a while, expecting the beast's jaws to once again darken the opening of the cornucopia, but it appeared to have left them.

After a while, Amagi slowly crept up to the opening, and peered outside. She gripped her sword, prepared for the imminent surprise attack, but the creature had gone. Konstance and Chayonna were also gone, but this did not particularly worry either of them. At the moment, they were too focused on finding a way to get away from the giant lizard than anything else.

Cassida, seeing that the beast had disappeared, started heading toward the western edge of the jungle. "Remember that fence? It's not electrified, but I don't think it could fit through the gaps in those wires. We should still be safe if we can get past it."

Amagi, looking out across the meadow, grabbed her shoulder and stopped her. "Hang on, I have to get something first."

Cassida did not want to waste any time doing anything other than getting as much distance as possible between her and that foul smelling beast, but followed Amagi anyway. They jogged off to one end of the meadow and stepped into the jungle. Once there, Amagi began searching the area, frantically lifting up tree limbs and tropical leaves. After all but tearing the jungle floor up, she looked up at Cassida, now confused. "I left three packs here yesterday, but now they're not here!"

Cassida, fighting impatience, replied, "The whole cornucopia supplies are also gone, why would this one be any different?"

Amagi had uprooted the entire area, but was still dissatisfied. As she began the search anew, Cassida grabbed her arm and stopped her. "There's no time! It's not here! Let's go!"

Humoring Cassida, if only to calm her down, Amagi reluctantly stopped her frantic search. "It's just strange, that's all."

Cassida let out a disgusted sigh. "They're just messing with us! If they destroyed all the supplies out there, why wouldn't they have destroyed these as well?"

Amagi shook her head. "No, anything coming this way would have been caught in the trap we set over there..." She stopped as she caught sight of the trap she had set the previous day. It had been tripped, but whatever had been caught had sliced the net open. "Well that's strange."

"Come on! Let's get out of here before that _thing_ comes back!" Cassida was all but physically dragging her along.

Finally, Amagi gave in. "You're right. It doesn't matter. Let's go."


	39. Chapter N plus 13

As Jonah descended the stairs, he held his spear up to ward off any creatures that might jump out at him from the dark. He was positive that the gamemakers had something planned for him down here, and didn't particularly like being forced to follow their plan. However, the only option he had was to descend the stairs, and he decided that he might as well get it over with.

There was a doorway at the bottom of the stairs that led into a long hallway. As he traversed the dark corridor, his eyes eventually began to adjust. There were several doors on either wall, but each of them was locked tight. A shallow beam of light illuminated a single door at the far end of the hallway, which clicked unlocked and cracked open, beckoning him to enter.

He couldn't help but think that he was being led along like a cow to the slaughterhouse.

There was suddenly a great slamming sound, and his heart nearly jumped out of his throat. He listened intently, though he was only able to hear the loud thumping of his own heart. He quickly crossed the threshold into the next room, where he caught sight of the sound's source.

On the far end of the room, the door had swung open, and was now beating against the inside wall. More importantly, however, there were three tributes slowly making their way inside.

This is it, then, Jonah thought. This is what they were leading me to. They want a fight.

He knew that he would eventually have to give them what they wanted, but first, he would wait. He crouched in the darkness and slunk forward in the darkness, recalling more of his grandfather's wisdom. Know your enemy. Blindly running into a fight was one of the best ways to get killed. It was likely the only reason that he had escaped from Amagi, and he knew that he was bound to lose a three on one battle if he didn't tip the scales in his favor beforehand.

Instead of immediately rushing them, he sat and he waited, looking for weaknesses to exploit.

The door refused to stay closed, and the light emanating from the open doorway, allowed him to see the three tributes. He did not know the first two, but he immediately recognized the third as the boy who had beaten up Flash during training. He would have to be careful.

The three tributes did not notice him as they walked in, and, instead, started commenting on something about structural integrity of the building. It was a strange comment to make, but, even stranger, were the comments that followed. The disagreement led to a fascinating series of revelations about each of them and a unique aspect regarding the games.

Jonah began to listen intently to the conversation, almost forgetting why he was there in the first place. As the conversation continued on, Jonah could feel a pit growing in his stomach as they made several startling accusations about the nature of this year's games.

Looking over at the small, stuttering girl making these accusations, his heart leapt into his throat. She was looking directly at him. He froze, willing his body to stay perfectly still. It was so dark that he could barely see his own hand when he held it in front of his face, so certainly didn't think any of them would be able to see him.

She must just be looking out into the dark, he rationalized. Anyway, if she had seen him, then why wasn't she saying anything about it? Why wasn't she alerting the others. No, it was just his imagination, but still, her bright green eyes never moved from where he was as she stuttered her explanation of why each of them had been chosen to be reaped.

Jonah had always assumed that the reapings were random; he had never really given thought to the fact that the drawings might be rigged. Normally, he might not have minded, except that he happened to be among those who had been reaped, and, if this girl was speaking the truth, it had been done unfairly.

Thinking back, Jonah couldn't remember anything in particular that he had done to earn any kind of punishment from the Capitol. Why would he have been chosen?

It wasn't until he heard one of the tributes speak the name "Donovan", that it dawned on him.

Like so many of the families in District 8, his family ran a small textile shop out of their tenement house that produced and shipped garments out to other districts. Not long ago, they had received an order for two replica peacekeeper costumes. The note had stated that it would be for a private collection, but the buyer was offering a staggering amount of money for them to make it as precise and detailed as possible. He had even provided all of the necessary measurements ahead of time. It was a strange order, to say the least, though he hadn't thought much of it at the time; he was just happy to have another customer, which meant more income.

The name of the buyer was a Mr. Donovan.

Though they had had their initial suspicions of illegal activity, the buyer had assured them that they had gone through all the proper legal channels and had the paperwork to prove it. They were assured that no harm would come to them.

However, Jonah thought, if that were the case, then how did he end up getting reaped for the games? The three tributes admitted that there were no coincidences here, so he must be here because of a certain Mr. Donovan. Was it just coincidence that there also happened to be a "Donovan" in the games? Was it just coincidence that the gamemakers brought him right here right now?

A cold rage began to build as he watched the boy. It was that boy's fault that he had gotten reaped. Jonah's thoughts burned at him as he recalled the note's assertions. No harm would come to me, huh? Well look where we are now. The boy was laughing at something now, and it disgusted Jonah.

Mikey had been somewhat tickled at the prospect of this coincidence, though a pit began to form in his stomach as Stella's demeanor turned cold and he realized the implications of it all.

"Hang on", Mikey cut in. "How far does this extend? I mean, I know that we were put here, but what about the others? The other districts?"

"most had...something to do..." Joule's distracted eyes were intently watching something over Mikey's shoulder.

"That's crazy", Mikey let out a heavy sigh. "All those tributes, reaped only because..."

In the middle of this statement, Joule suddenly stood up and leaped toward Mikey. Stunned, Mikey reflexively brought his hands up defensively as Joule dove toward him. Stella was quickly on her feet, thinking that she might be attacking him.

There was a soft thudding sound, and Joule let out a soft squeak as she fell straight into Mikey's lap, revealing a spear lodged solidly into her back.

It all happened so fast that Mikey wasn't even sure what was happening. He found himself completely paralyzed, his mind trying to reason out what had just happened. One second, he had been talking to Joule, and the next, she lay in a heaped pile on top of him, blood now oozing out of her back and onto the front of his uniform.

A cannon echoed out through the storm, the sound easily mistakable for the rumbling of thunder.

Stella reacted instantly. Flooded with adrenaline, she grabbed the traumatized Mikey, and dragged him out of the light and back into the dark recesses of the building. Mikey couldn't move as his mind tried to process what was just happened. He stared helplessly at the now lifeless form of Joule as Stella dragged him across the floor, leaving a trail of Joule's blood in their wake.

The darkened figure of Jonah Abagnale slowly stepped out of the shadows and into the soft illumination created by the day's remaining light seeping through the open doorway. He crossed the room and plucked his spear out of Joule's back. "Idiot girl. I wasn't aiming for you."

He looked up at the forms of Stella and Mikey, now backed as far as they could get. They were now quite literally cornered as Jonah advanced on them, spear in hand. His hands were trembling with rage, and he was having trouble keeping his voice steady. "So it's your fault that I'm here. No harm would come to us, heh? Nobody would find out? Well look where we are now!" He screamed the last bit at the two tributes now huddling in the corner.

Stella slowly pulled out her knives, but she knew that there was little she would be able to do if Jonah decided to launch another spear at them. Instead, she studied the room, looking for a way out of the situation as Jonah continued his verbal assault.

Halfway through a speech on how Mikey should be ashamed of himself, Jonah stopped and sniffed the air. There was strange aroma that wafted across the room, and he couldn't quite place it. It was slightly musty with a tinge of spoiled milk. He turned to look at the door and was surprised to see a figure standing just inside the door. It had entered the room behind him, completely silent, except for the hiss of its breath and the occasional tapping of its claws on the concrete floor. Though the room was almost completely dark, the creature could see well enough to slowly stalk forward toward the three tributes.

It moved in slow, rhythmic jerks, much like a bird, though it was clearly another lizard muttation. Standing at about six feet tall, it was powerfully built with long, muscular legs and a jaw lined with rows of razor teeth. Though these were nothing compared to the large curved claws featured on the outside of each foot.

As Jonah watched, another one silently entered through the open doorway. Jonah couldn't help but think that he must have taken too long to attack the tributes he had been led to. The gamemakers must have considered the lack of action boring, and had sent something to spice it up. He kicked himself for not acting sooner, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Predator became prey as Jonah turned from Mikey and Stella to face this new threat.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Stella pulled Mikey up and they shuffled off into the darkness, leaving Jonah alone to face the new threat.


	40. Chapter N plus 14

Chayonna was still in shock.

"You're fine now. We're safe." Konstance wasn't entirely sure that it was true, but it wouldn't help Chayonna's condition to say otherwise.

After the encounter with the great lizard, Konstance had carried her deep into the forest, and had kept running until his legs had given out. He had lain her down in a soft pad of moss concealed in a dense thicket of leafy bushes, and was now trying to coax her into talking to him, though when she did talk, it didn't make any sense.

"Lions and tigers and bears, oh my." She softly repeated the phrase to herself over and over as she rocked back and forth cradling her knees. "Lions and tigers and bears, oh my. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my..." The nonsensical words trailed off as her voice became softer and softer until she was only moving her mouth silently to the words.

Any consoling comments Konstance said had no effect, whether she didn't understand him or she simply wasn't listening. He was starting to get perturbed by her unsettling behavior. He couldn't just leave her out here alone, but he also didn't know what he could possibly do for her. "Hey, I know that was really scary, but it's over now. You need to get up. We need to go."

He lifted her chin up, but her face was completely blank and unresponsive. Her eyes lolled off to the side, staring at something far off in the distance as she mumbled something incoherently.

Konstance now brought her close, holding her face near enough to his so that she had to look into his eyes, and gently reassured her. "We're safe. We're not lost. We're far away from that animal that attacked us, and I have a plan."

She didn't respond to his voice, and Konstance couldn't tell if she was even listening to him. If not for her occasional softly babbled word, he might have thought she was unconscious.

All at once, she looked up with a bewildered expression, as if just noticing that he was there.

The sudden movement shocked Konstance, who had become quite used to her rhythmic rocking and unresponsive behavior.

"Hans? Hans! You've come to rescue me!" She jumped to her feet and hugged Konstance. "I always knew you would come save me! I've been waiting for such a long time!"

Konstance, though somewhat thrilled that Chayonna was hugging him, was actually more worried now than when she had simply been unresponsive.

He peeled her off, and asked, "Hans? Who is Hans?"

Chayonna was now giddy with glee.

Tears were falling down her cheeks, though Konstance couldn't tell if they were tears of happiness, sadness, or something else entirely. "Oh Hans! Take me with you! We need to stop the Fiery Witch! For all of Loria!"

_Loria._ It sounded vaguely familiar to him.

Then it hit him. _The Annals of Loria_. It was the book that she had been reading when they first met. The book that Flash had stolen from her.

Chayonna was now begging with him. "You're the only one who can navigate the Witch's Woods without becoming hopelessly lost forever! You must take me to the Witch's castle! Please take me with you! Together we can slay the Fiery Witch and save Loria!"

Konstance stared down at Chayonna, who was now on her knees, waiting for a response. Desperate for a way to get Chayonna up and moving, he decided to play along. He wasn't sure that it was particularly good for her mental health, but it was beginning to get dark and they were out of options.

"Um...Yes! You may join me on my... uh... quest!" Konstance grimaced as he said it. He had never actually read the book, and was hoping that he sounded enough like the fictional hero.

Chayonna let out a squeal of excitement and jumped up, kissing Konstance on the cheek. "I won't let you down!" She leaned over and picked up her iron mace, then smiled affectionately at Konstance. Her behavior was somewhat disturbing, but he would have to deal with it later.

Konstance, now acting under the pseudonym "Hans", led the bewildered Chayonna back to the meadow. They waited at the outskirts, anxiously watching for the great lizard, but it was long gone. The rain had let up considerably since they had last been out here, now nothing more than a light mist, and the air had picked up a wet, musty smell. Standing amid the rubble where their campsite had once stood, Konstance surveyed the woods until he found what he was looking for. He motioned for Chayonna to follow him and headed toward the break in the foliage where he had seen Amagi go the night before with the spare packs.

Once in the jungle, he turned toward Chayonna. "Last night, when you two were on watch with Amagi, I saw her take a couple of packs to this area somewhere. They're probably still here, we just need to find them."

Chayonna's eyes widened. "The artifact! The Fiery Witch must have used magic to conceal it! Don't worry, we'll find it! The power of true friendship will prevail!"

"Uh... yea... the artifact..." Konstance grimaced. "We'll start over there, then work our way around. It's got to be here somewhere."

The two thoroughly searched the area, but came up empty. Wherever Amagi had hidden the spare packs, she had done a very good job of concealing them. They widened their search radius, but still came up empty. As darkness began to settle in, and it became increasingly difficult to see, Konstance was about to call the search off and pursue other options, when Chayonna found it.

"I found the artifact!" Chayonna jumped up and down with glee as she held the pack. "The great tiger was right! The power of true friendship has broken the Fiery Witch's spell!"

They had circled around and were back to where they had started. It had been here all along, but they must have been too panicked earlier, and had skipped right over it. Chayonna only found one pack, but, in retrospect, it made sense. Amagi must have hidden the three packs in different spots in case one or two were found. Anyway, he didn't really need more what they had found; one was good enough for their purposes.

He was relieved to find that the pack was still well stocked with food and other survival supplies. He gathered some tinder, and soon they had a small fire going. Going through the supplies, he found that he was surprisingly hungry. He couldn't recall the last time he ate, and was more than happy to dig in to the food.

When Chayonna insisted on taking first watch, he allowed her to. "Wolves roam the woods at night. Don't worry Hans, I'll protect you." She smiled gingerly at him. "Sleep now. We will storm the Witch's castle in the morning."

Chayonna's act somewhat still worried Konstance, but he decided that they should be fine until morning. Maybe she would sleep it off, and then they could laugh about how funny the whole thing had been. Deciding to let go of the worry, he found that he was uncannily tired. Near-death experiences have a tendency to do that to a person. Unable to keep his eyes open, as he lay down, he almost immediately fell soundly into a deep sleep.

He dreamed of Bethany.

He had won the games and had returned home to a family that had finally grown to respect and appreciate him. They had thrown a luxurious, upscale party for his return. He walked through the lavish ballroom with Bethany as people joyously danced around him. She had forgiven him for abandoning them and two of them now joked about how silly the whole thing really was.

In the midst of the crowd, he was stopped by a butler offering him an hors d'oeuvre. It was the great lizard, leaning over with a platter delicately balance on his scrawny front claws. He could tell from the aroma that it was Violet's stew that Cassida had dumped onto the ground, and he politely declined. Continuing through the crowd, he finally found what he was looking for on the far end of the room.

It was Chayonna.

She was dressed in the brilliant ruby crested dress that she had worn during her interview, and it sparkled dazzlingly as she turned to face him. Konstance couldn't have been more euphoric as he moved across the floor to meet her, politely moving between dancing couples.

As she caught sight of him, Chayonna gave him a warm smile, and Konstance returned it. Just before he reached her, one last rogue dancing couple swooped in front of him. He maneuvered around them, but when he did, Chayonna had disappeared.

He looked around, trying to figure out where she had gone, but the great ballroom was now deserted. Various napkins and paper cups were strewn across the floor, but there was no sign of Chayonna, Bethany, or anyone else.

He was alone again.

He awoke to birds chirping. Opening his eyes, he was quite disoriented. It took him a few seconds to remember that he was, in fact, still in the Hunger Games. It was brighter than he expected it to be and was surprised to see that the sun was high in the sky, the afternoon sun warm against his skin.

He could hear the fire crackling, and slowly cracked one eye open. He could see Chayonna with her back to him, cooking something over the fire. As he came to his senses, he was mad at her for letting him sleep through the night. He began to sit up and tell her so, but he was afflicted by some kind of sleep paralysis, and his movement was sluggish.

The sound of his movement caused Chayonna to turn around and face him. Except that it wasn't Chayona at all.

"Hey, you're up. I was starting to think that you had died or something. I mean not really because there wasn't a cannon, but I didn't expect you to be out for so long. But hey, you're awake now, so that's good."

Berton shrugged and smiled sheepishly at Konstance, who was trying to figure out whether or not he was still dreaming. He sat up to face the boy who had taken over his campsite, but found that he was somehow restrained.

Looking down, he saw that his wrists and ankles were bound.

"Easy. Hey, easy there. Relax, I'm not going to hurt you." Berton got up and walked over toward Konstance, offering him a skewered newt that he had been roasting over the fire. "Breakfast?"


	41. Chapter N plus 15

Amagi and Cassida both reached the fence without incident, though there had been several times in which they were sure they had heard the great lizard skulking along somewhere out there in the jungle. When they finally broke through the foliage and out into the road, the rain had stopped. The sky was still darkened by clouds, but the storm had moved on.

Cassida picked up one of the loose limbs that littered the post-storm road and threw it at the fence. It bounced harmlessly off, showing no signs of any sort of electric flow. Then, she removed her pack and tossed it against the fence, but again, nothing happened. She turned toward Amagi. "Good enough?"

"Yea", Amagi growled back. "Good enough."

At that, they both stepped through the fence and entered the jungle on the other side.

Now in unexplored territory, they both were more careful. The jungle on this side of the fence seemed to be much thicker, reinforcing their theory that the great lizard would not be able to follow them.

After a while, they stumbled upon a structure nestled into the ground, though ventilation ducts seemed to imply that it had an expansive subterranean body Most of the building was hidden by overgrowth, and it was a strange sight to see a door seem to appear in the middle of the dense jungle.

Amagi, sensing a trap, opted to pass by, but Cassida couldn't resist her curiosity. She walked up to the structure and pushed the hanging vines to the side, revealing a door simply marked "Supply Bunker 01".

As Cassida solidly shoved the door, it swung inward, releasing a damp, musty breeze. Other than the light seeping in from the open doorway, the interior was pitch black. The light from the doorway revealed a small metallic catwalk that terminated in stairs that descended into the inky depths. The ceiling and walls were laced with various pipes and wiring of various colors, though none of it was marked.

As the two girls gazed into the darkened bunker, an idea occurred to Amagi. She turned toward Cassida, raising her eyebrows mischievously. "I dare you to go in there."

Cassida scowled at the dare, an unusual thing coming from Amagi.

"Look, it's fine. If you're too scared..." Amagi reached for the door to close it, but Cassida stretched her hand out, blocking the door from closing. Reacting as if Amagi had physically slapped her, she snapped "Girl, I don't know if you noticed, but I just rode on the head of some giant lizard mutant thing. I'm certainly not afraid of a little bit of darkness."

Holding Amagi's stare, Cassida stepped across the threshold and took a couple steps inside. "See? No big deal." She turned toward the darkness and cupped her hands to her mouth, yelling, "Hello? Any creepy monsters down there? You can come on up and eat me now!" She stopped and listened, though all she could hear was as her voice echoing down through the darkness.

Amagi shook her head condescendingly. "Oh, cmon. You just took two steps inside. That's nothing. If you're really not afraid, go over and touch that red pipe over there, then come back."

Cassida looked across the room, where a red pipe descended next to where the catwalk met the stairs. "Please. That's nothing. I'll be right back." She galloped across the catwalk to the unmarked pipe, her footsteps echoing through the darkness.

When she reached the pipe, she turned to mock Amagi, but was just in time to see the girl slam the door closed, leaving her alone in almost perfect darkness. Shocked by this turn of events and annoyed at herself for not predicting it, she scrambled back toward the entrance. She was unable to see where she was going, and had to feel along the handrail of the catwalk as she rushed back to the door. Reaching it, she tugged on the handle, but found that Amagi had somehow braced it from the outside, effectively locking her in.

"NO!" Cassida screamed, forgetting about her pride as she pounded on the door "NO! Don't leave me in here alone!"

Stella and Mikey had also found themselves locked in. Alone in the dark, the two felt their way around the back wall and found the door that Jonah had entered through. Pulling on the handle, they found that the only exit that wasn't currently blocked by lizard muttations was locked shut. The sinking feeling in Mikey's stomach increased as he realized that they were now trapped in a room with a pack of lizard mutts with no escape.

"Hang on, I've got this." Stella threaded her hands through her hair, pulling out a small hair clip. She slipped the clip into the lock and began working the pins, grateful that this work was done mostly by feeling and required no light. She tried to focus entirely on her work and not on the fact that at any moment, she could be ripped apart by mutated lizards.

Mikey looked away from Stella and back at Jonah, who was very popular at the moment.

"Hey! Get back! Get back!" Jonah swung his spear back and forth, warding the lizard muttations away. Instead of backing off, though, the creatures fanned out, attempting to surround him. Jonah shivered as he witnessed their smooth, coordinated pack behavior.

Adjusting the grip on his spear, Jonah saw that he would need to change tactics or soon the creatures would be able to outflank him. Deciding not to give the creatures the chance, he charged the smaller muttation to his left.

It was caught off guard enough that Jonah got a solid strike in on its scaly chest. there was a loud thumping crack as the spear found its target and the lizard was knocked off its feet. He turned to face the other two, that were now keeping their distance, watching cautiously.

The floored lizard thrashed for a moment, oozing red blood from the gash that he had just inflicted, before finding its feet again. Moving surprisingly quickly, the lizard bounced forward and latched its teeth onto the spear and jerked its head sideways. The spear fell out of Jonah's grasp and clattered across the floor.

Jonah had not expected the creature to get back up. By all logic, the chest shot he had inflicted should have been a deadly blow, but for some reason, the creature merely seemed annoyed. He had been trained to fight human targets, and suddenly he realized that the vital points or weak spots were not necessarily the same with these things.

Now disarmed, he looked across the floor, where his spear now lay. "All or nothing", Jonah thought, as he shoved the lizard away and jumped for the now bloody spear. The wounded lizard backed off, but the other two advanced.

Jonah beat the lizards to the spear, though they were immediately on top of him. Jonah could feel a searing pain across his chest, then a warm dampness that began to spread across the front of his uniform. He grabbed the spear and thrusted it upward one more time into the lizard's chest, but it didn't have nearly enough force to puncture the scales and ricocheted off to the side.

The warmth now spreading, he reached down and felt a warm mass fall into his hands. He simply stared at the bloody mass in hands, confused by it. It took him a second to realize that he was holding his own intestines. It was a very surreal feeling, and a sort of peaceful inevitability washed over him. As he sat there, his mind began to float away, detaching itself from his body. He was now watching himself from afar, as if this all were happening to someone else. He could barely feel the sharp pain as the lizard muttation sank its teeth into the nape of his neck, and he only felt a slight discomfort as the lizard jerked its head, snapping his neck.

A cannon shot sounded out through the arena, and echoed through the otherwise now silent structure. One of the lizard muttations looked up from Jonah's body, and stared off into the darkness, where the two other tributes remained trapped. The other lizard muttations followed suit and began to slink silently forward toward them.

Mikey was beginning to lose his nerve, unable to do anything but watch and wait as Stella slowly and methodically picked the lock. "Stella?" He tapped on the girl's shoulder lightly, then more vigorously. "Stella!"

"Stop!", She swatted the boy's hand away. "Be quiet. I need to concentrate!"

Mikey tuned to Stella, the panic now taking hold. "They're coming! They're coming!"

"Hang on, I've almost got it. This last pin is just a little stuck..." Stella's voice was strained, though she remained calm as she worked the lock's inner mechanism.

Mikey looked back toward the open doorway, but could no longer see the creatures. They had retreated to the shadows and, though he could not see them, he could still hear their hissing snarls. He knew that they had maybe ten seconds before the lizards found them and he closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

There was a distinctive clicking sound, then Stella's soft, but unmistakably triumphant cheer "Got it!" He could feel the wind rushing by him as she swung the door open and she slipped inside. "Come on! Hurry!"

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and tried to pull Mikey through, but he was stuck.

He felt a soft tug on his left arm and reached over to find out what it was caught on. What he felt was slimy and sharp and it took him a second to realize that the creature was biting his arm. Mikey began to panic, clenching his free hand into a fist and began beating the lizard on what he assumed was its head, but it didn't let go. With Mikey's arm firmly clenched in its jaws, the creature swiftly jerked its head, throwing Mikey off his feet.

Outside the bunker, Amagi could hear Cassida's muffled screaming through the thick iron door as she proudly examined her handiwork.

Though it had been fun to watch at first, Cassida's utter unpredictability and spontaneity had made her a liability. After the incident with Violet, she had been looking for a way to rid herself of the girl. When the electric fence stunt had failed, she had tried to push Cassida into the path of the giant lizard's tongue, but that had also failed.

The bunker had given her another opportunity, and this time, she had taken full advantage of it. After coaxing Cassida into the bunker, she had slammed the door shut and had braced a katana in the door handle. Because the door swung inward, the door was not stuck shut.

Looking down, she examined several tracks in the mud that led up to the doorway of the bunker, then disappeared beyond the threshold. As she walked away, she laughed, "Let's hope you don't run into any creepy monsters."

All at once, the banging on the door stopped and it was silent.


	42. Chapter N plus 16

Slowly shaking off the drowsiness, Konstance thrashed against the ropes that bound him, but they held fast. As he did so, Berton walked over and sat down across from him.

"Yea, good luck with that." He smiled as he watched Konstance struggle. "Kennedy taught me that one. It is specifically designed to hold someone captive. Unless you have a knife, you're pretty much stuck there." He took a bite of the roasted newt he had just cooked

As Konstance fought the ropes that bound him, Berton continued to talk to him as if they were simply best buddies out on a camping trip. "Sorry, I didn't know how effective those things were. When you didn't wake up for a while, I was worried that you might have taken too much and maybe you had fallen asleep permanently, but there was no cannon, so I guess we're good."

Konstance took a break from struggling for a second to look up at Berton. "What? Eaten too much?"

"The food", Berton motioned toward the pack that Chayonna had found earlier. Smiling mischievously, Berton brought a plastic bag that contained two small round white pills out of his pocket and held it up. "Back in the Capitol, I told them I was having trouble sleeping and they gave me these." He shook the bag, and the pills danced around inside the plastic. "I saved them and snuck them into the arena. It was Kennedy's idea. He had some too, but he didn't make it past the bloodbath." His smile became a light grimace, but faded quickly as he joked, "Just don't ask me where I hid them. I'm still kind of sore from it."

Kennedy. The name had a slightly familiar ring to it, but Konstance couldn't quite put a face to it. "Kennedy?"

Berton's mouth was full of newt, but he responded anyway, causing small pieces of it to spew out. "Yea. Red hair and freckles?" He pointed to his own head as he said it. "He was there when you came over to the survival station that one time. Remember?"

"Ah", Konstance nodded knowingly. He did remember the boy that had been standing to the side as he addressed Berton during training. He also quite clearly remembered stabbing said boy with his sais during the bloodbath.

Hopefully Berton hadn't seen that.

If he had, Berton didn't show it. "Please don't be mad. I didn't know if you were going to attack me or not. I just wanted to make sure I had a chance to explain everything first."

Konstance nodded in assent, and Berton began his explanation.

On the first night, after falling from the tree, he had begun to get back up when he had heard a rustling in the foliage. Instead of getting up and running he pulled leaves over his body and sat completely still and silent as the figure approached. Not five seconds later, Amagi stepped through the underbrush with a well stocked pack from the cornucopia in hand.

Berton held his breath, willing her not to look at him as she buried the pack beneath a particularly leafy bush. Amagi was more focused on performing the task at hand and making sure that she wasn't being watched to see Berton. Covering her tracks, Amagi had returned to the cornucopia, leaving the pack behind.

Suspicious that the pack was part of a trap, Berton climbed back up and watched Amagi from the treetops, hoping that she might reveal part of her plan. He could see out into the meadow through a gap in the trees, and the moonlight and campfire made it easy to see what was going on out in the open field. Amagi had returned two more times, each time placing more supplies that she had retrieved from the cornucopia next to ones she had already scavenged.

When Amagi had fallen asleep, Berton climbed down to inspect the supplies. He figured that she was saving some of the supplies for herself, and that they could easily be gone if he waited until later. Slinking through the trees toward the supplies, his foot inadvertently kicked a tripwire, and he had been swept up into the net trap.

He thrashed, swinging the net, struggling to escape, but with each movement, the ropes cinched tighter around his body. He stopped struggling, fearing that the cords would eventually begin to cut off circulation.

When he heard footsteps approaching in the darkness, his mind conjured up the figure of Amagi during the bloodbath, sweeping her katana through anyone close enough to reach. It was about the most embarrassing thing he could imagine happening to him on live television.

Expecting to see Amagi, he was surprised to see Kieran, his half-brother, approaching him. He had to blink several times to make sure that his eyes weren't deceiving him. Of course, they were, and in the dim light, he saw Konstance, the career tribute from District 2. He was approaching Berton with weapons raised, though he seemed hesitant.

Berton was going to beg for his life, but something stopped him. What could he possibly say that would convince this guy not to kill him? He could think of no other reason than that he simply didn't want to die, but what wood would that argument do?

In his submissive state, he let his eyes once again deceive him as he looked into the eyes of his half-brother. Though he knew that he should be afraid, Berton was instead grateful that he was being given this last chance to talk to Kieran. When Berton finally spoke up, though he was physically talking to Konstance, in his head, he was also addressing Kieran.

He had certainly not believed that the career tribute would set him free, but was nonetheless grateful that he had. After Konstance had cut him down, it took Berton a second to realize that he was not dead, and quickly collected himself. Finishing what he had started earlier, he snatched the packs that Amagi had hidden and returned to his tree, where he found a small pack of small green lizards waiting for him.

They did not seem particularly vicious, but there was a whole pack of them jumping up and down, chirping excitedly at him. There was no place he could go to escape them; the only way he could escape was to get out of their reach.

He would have to run for it.

He threw one pack across his back, and tossed the other two into the air. They landed at the base of the tree, causing the small lizards to momentarily disperse. Berton used this opening to launch himself at the tree, grabbing the vines and pulling himself up. The lizards recovered quickly and jumped up, nipping him on the calf and ankle.

He didn't think much of it until his legs began to tingle, then go numb. Though he was now out of reach of the lizards, he could feel the numbness spreading up through his legs, and knew that his time was short. Setting the pack in the crook of two limbs, he unzipped it and pulled out a length of rope. Working quickly, he uncoiled the rope and began to tie himself to the trunk of the tree.

He just barely was able to cinch the knot tight as his core muscles gave way and he helplessly tumbled forward. The rope cinched tighter as he fell, but it held as he swung suspended from the tree. The numbness had spread into his arms as he hung precariously, just inches out of reach of the tiny green lizards, who were all jumping up and gnashing their teeth at the human pi**ñ**ata.

Eventually, they had given up in frustration, much like the fox who couldn't quite reach the grapes, and had left him to hang there. That night was an awful experience as he dangled helplessly from the tree in the most uncomfortable position possible, terrified that something else would emerge from the woods to attack him.

Just before dawn, feeling began to spread throughout his body again, and he could feel nothing but cramps. He swung himself back to the trunk and his body sighed with relief as he finally stretched the sore muscles.

Berton had spent the entire next day in the tree, terrified of climbing down for fear that as soon as his feet touched ground, the pack of green lizards would flood out of the jungle and overpower him.

He was beginning to feel like a squirrel with all the time he was spending up in the treetops. As a kid, he had always been envious of treehouses owned by other kids, but now that he had spent almost two days in the trees, he was starting to get sick of it. On the bright side, the dizzying heights didn't really affect him anymore.

Near afternoon of the second day, when the creatures had not shown up again, he finally convinced himself to climb down to seek shelter from the storm. As he sat on the ground, sheltered by the dense ground foliage, the earthquake started.

He was glad that he hadn't been in the tree when it hit. He had already fallen out of the tree once, and it hadn't really been all that fun the first time. It didn't last long, but since the storm had let up quite a bit, he climbed up to see what the damage was. Hauling the other packs up with him, he looked out into the trashed meadow just in time to see the other careers emerge, followed by the giant lizard.

From the tree, he watched the epic battle that followed, seeing Konstance and Chayonna head off into the trees on the far side. Cassida and Amagi, who hadn't been lucky enough to be ignored by the beast, had been trapped in the cornucopia. Berton had thought they were done for sure when he saw the great beast's head emerge with bloody jaws. However, he was mildly disappointed to see that both Cassida and Amagi had escaped relatively unharmed.

Berton sat up in the tree and watched as Amagi searched beneath him for the very packs that were now sitting next to him in the crook of the branches. Eventually, Cassida dragged her away, but that wasn't the end of it. Not an hour later, Konstance and Chayonna showed up, searching the area for the same packs.

Seeing his chance to thank Konstance for helping him out of a jam, he decided to return the favor. He wanted to know why the career tribute had spared him, and, deciding that he may not get another chance to use them, he crushed most of the sleeping pills into powder and laced the food in the bag with it.

Making sure that Konstance and Chayonna were out of sight first, he dropped the pack from the tree, and it crashed down through the branches to the jungle floor. It was not long until Chayonna found it and the two career tributes consumed the food laced with the drug.

By this time Berton had finished his first newt and was munching on a second one. "Well you fell fast asleep pretty quickly, but Chayonna... well, she... um... " Berton stuttered for a second, before quickly changing the subject, but this trick did not go over Konstance's head.

For the first time since he woke up, Konstance noticed that Chayonna was absent and confronted Berton about it. "What about Chayonna? Where is she? What happened?"

Berton grimaced, not particularly wanting to tell that part of the story. He started to back pedal, hoping that Konstance would for some reason let it go. "Look, she was kind of delusional, ok? She was acting really funny before I showed up, so it's not my fault that.."

Konstance broke Berton's stuttering with a low, guttural growl. "What did you do to Chayonna?"


	43. Chapter N plus 17

**Hey guys! Just a heads up: I'm going to take a break from writing this for a while starting tomorrow. School stuff and what not. Hey, now, don't get all upset- it'll only be for a week or so. I expect to start posting again by next Monday. That's the 15th if you're reading this late. Cheers! ~Oddtom**

As her pride returned to her, Cassida decided that she was not going to give Amagi the satisfaction of her victory. Her fear turning to fury, she vowed that she would somehow escape from this place and get revenge on Amagi.

Her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, she could now make out the outline of the catwalk in front of her in the dim light. Groping for the handrail, she slowly made her way forward into the murky depths.

Mikey felt like he was going to split down the middle.

Now sprawled on the floor, he was caught in the middle of a tug of war between the lizard muttations, which had a solid grip on his arm, and Stella, who was trying to pull him through to the next room. Though she was braced against the door, she was losing the battle.

As Stella pulled on his arm, she could see that it was completely pointless. She was only prolonging the inevitable. Furthermore, the longer she kept the door open, the more exposed she would be to an attack. How easy it would be, she thought, to just release him and be done with it. After all, she had already saved his life once, and what had he done for her?

Nobody would blame her. How could she be expected to continue to risk her life for Mikey when she had her own life to worry about. She probably wouldn't have been able to save him anyway and, after all, this is the Hunger Games- people die all the time.

Making an executive decision, she decided that she would have to let him go if she was to live.

Stella watched Mikey's horrified expression as she slowly released her grip. Then, she watched as Mikey's hand slipped through her sweaty palms, and he was dragged away, disappearing into the darkness.

Stella slammed the door closed and locked it behind him.

Cassida descended the stairs at the end of the catwalk and found herself in a cold, dimly lit rectangular room with concrete floors. She took a few cautious steps forward, but stopped when she thought she heard something emanating from the depths. "Who's there?"

She knew that she probably sounded stupid asking the question, but she didn't know what else to say. In response, she heard something softly snarling at her from the depths. She didn't know what was out there or if it could see her, but she decided to draw her sword anyway.

However, when she reached for her sword, she found that her sheath was empty.

Thinking back, she was chagrined when she remembered that she had left it firmly embedded in the great lizard's tongue. She heard the snarl again, and it was closer this time. Cassida turned to face the threat, slowly backing from it.

The muttations snarled madly as they wrenched and thrashed Mikey about. With his free hand, Mikey batted the creatures' claws out of the way as they slashed at him. In a last ditch effort to get away, he reached over to his left arm, and began to manually twist the elbow. There was a series of soft clicking sounds followed by the hiss of escaping gases as his entire forearm detached.

The lizards had not expected this sudden lapse in resistance, and sprawled backward into the darkness with Mikey's prosthetic arm. A shower of sparks suddenly burst from the prosthetic, illuminating the immediate area. He could see three of the lizard muttations now, and the sight of them fighting over his arm terrified him more than when he had been in darkness.

Without a weapon, Cassida closed her hand around her district token, a single shark tooth threaded around her neck. Remembering what she told Caesar when he had asked about it during her interview, she repeated aloud now what she had said then.

"Nothing can stop a Callero."

She ripped the necklace off and gripped the serrated shark tooth tightly in her fist and yelled out into the darkness. "Come on! I'm right here!"

There was nothing but silence.

She was suddenly hit forcefully in the chest, and fell over backwards. She tried to get up, but there was a heavy weight holding her down. She felt a sharp pain in her chest and, feeling for the problem, found several sharp claws attached to scaly, muscular legs.

The thing was standing on her.

This was not how she planned for it to end. Not before she got back at Amagi for her treachery. She gripped the legs and pushed up with all her strength, knocking the lizard mutt off balance. While it was trying to find its feet, Cassida jumped on top of it and began stabbing at any exposed part she could find with the serrated tooth.

The lizard shrieked in pain and backed away.

Cassida was back on her feet now, swinging wildly into the darkness. Though she couldn't see, she was hoping the creature would come within arm's reach once again so she could continue to slash at it. What she got instead was another solid blow to the chest as the lizard whipped its tail around, knocking her backward.

She hit one of the walls, disturbing a rack of objects that had been hanging there. There was a loud clattering sound as several long, metallic objects fell free and clattered onto the floor. She had lost her grip on the shark tooth during the last hit, and now grasped for one of these metallic object instead, swinging it in front of her as the lizard muttation once again attacked.

As she held the metallic rod, she found a kind of trigger near one end. Pulling the trigger, she saw a shower of sparks viciously snapping across the two-pronged tip. The violet electricity crackled as it lit up in the darkness and Cassida began laughing maniacally. "Come and get me! Cassie's got a surprise for you!"

Stella now found herself alone in the darkness, but it didn't really bother her. Mikey's death was nagging at her, but she refused to get upset. She knew from the beginning that this was going to happen eventually and she had intentionally not placed any emotional value into their friendship. Then why did this bother her?

An image of Mikey ripped open by the lizard's claws and slowly bleeding out floated through her mind, but she violently shoved it away. She hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, he was the bad guy here, leaving her to fight for her life while he moved on to a better place.

She sat down, rehashing all the reasons that she could not possibly have saved him and how if she had done anything different, the lizards would have come through the door to attack her. Though she didn't want to think about it, it constantly nagged at her as she sat and waited for the daylight to return.

As night fell, she could hear the anthem blaring out across the arena, but, indoors, she couldn't see the display in the night sky. Any other night, it may have reminded her how close she was to winning, but she didn't particularly want to see the faces of either Joule or Mikey, who had joined Rachel on the list of people who had died just as she decided to trust them.

She lay down and closed her eyes, but she was not going to get any sleep that night.

After locking Cassida up in the bunker, Amagi had turned and headed back the way they had come. Though she knew that the giant lizard may be awaiting, she preferred the enemy she did know to the enemy that she didn't know. Darkness fell as she walked through the jungle, and she decided to climb a tree to sleep for the night.

Though she had no way of securing herself to the tree, she knew that it would likely be much safer than staying on the jungle floor. With no supplies but the swords on her back, she picked out a large tree with sizable branches that she could spend the night in.

She woke up in the early hours of the morning to the sound of her stomach rumbling. She had not expected to be caught in a situation where food wasn't available, especially after having stowed several bags of supplies, but what would the Hunger Games be without hunger?

Jumping down from the tree, she decided that her best bet would be to look for the pack again. Thinking back, she was sure that it must have been there, she just hadn't looked for it enough. Cassida had made sure of that. However, without that pesky Cassida bothering her, she was sure that she would find them.

She crossed the fence just as the sun broke over the horizon and set off toward the direction she believed the meadow was. Working her way through the jungle, she was confused when the foliage slowly changed to something unfamiliar to her. The trees here bore bundles of long, thin yellow fruits that she recognized from training. Looking around, they were everywhere. She had stumbled into some sort of banana grove.

Happy at her luck, she plucked several ripe bananas and sat down to enjoy the breakfast she had scavenged. As she sat beneath one of the shadier banana trees, something appeared over the treeline to the south that caught her eye. A single column of smoke was rising up from a campfire in the distance.

She was not alone.


	44. Chapter N plus 18

**Hey, I'm back! Would you look at that? It's Monday already! Ok, so I'm kind of excited to get this story going again, and I hope all of you are as excited to read about it. The next few chapters might jump around a lot, but there's a lot going on at almost the same time. **

Jerome was bored out of his mind.

He had spent all day setting traps all around his camp, then rebuilding a new shelter and reinforcing it against potential attacks by the tiny green lizard muttations. He had set up several clever traps around his shelter, and was interested to see if they would work. He had stockpiled plenty of ripe bananas from around the grove, and had placed them within his shelter. By the time night fell, he was more than ready.

When the anthem played, he saw the faces of four tributes across the sky: Flash Adams from District 1, Joule Tribble from District 5, Violet Aster from District 7, and Jonah Abagnale from District 8. He had not expected a tribute from one of the career districts to show up, but he nonetheless welcomed it.

Suddenly, an accomplished feeling began to swell inside of him. He had made it to the final eight. He had survived a muttation attack, and felt ready to take on anything. They would be pulling in his family for interviews now. He imagined little Pines excitedly jumping and tripping over his words as he tried to explain how awesome his big brother was, and he laughed at the image.

He slept well that night, only interrupted by a single cannon boom echoing out. Not particularly bothered by it, he took the time emerge from his shelter and check the traps around his campsite. Finding them untouched, he was almost let down that the small green lizards had decided not to visit him.

Nodding at his shelter in approval, he thought again, The Final Eight. No, final seven, he reminded himself, remembering the cannon boom that woke him up. Only seven of us left, Jerome thought, and I can go back home.

* * *

><p>Stella, on the other hand, had not been able to sleep at all that night. Though she tried to, she was haunted by images of her past that continued to resurface as she lay in the dark. She had managed to find a pseudo-relaxing state by allowing her senses to dull and had become comfortably numb as she ran her fingers across a strangely shaped crack in the wall, studying it without really thinking about it.<p>

Some time near dawn, there was a soft click, and the room was flooded with light. A jolt of fear passed through Stella as she snapped awake. Her mind still caught in her nightmares, for a moment, she thought she was back on the train. Before she could stop herself, she shouted out, "Rachel!"

Stella sat up, breathing heavily, her heart pounding, as she slowly convinced herself that she was not on the train anymore. Not that being trapped in the arena made her feel any better. Great, she thought, now she was thinking about Rachel again. She let out a heavy sigh, as her initial fear slowly receded.

Blinking in the sudden influx of light, she looked around the newly illuminated room to distract herself. The room was poorly decorated and looked like some kind of maintenance access hallway, each of the doors labeled with their destination. The door behind them read "Visitor's Center", and she walked down the hall reading each one. "Generator Room", "Roof Access", and "Storage" all sounded promising, but she stopped when she read the label on the door at the far end of the room.

She suddenly knew that this was exactly the way she needed to go. The door was locked, but that meant almost nothing to the master lockpicker. No problem, she thought, as she reached up into her hair for the clip. Weaving her hand through her hair, she found that the clip wasn't there. It must have fallen out some time during the struggle the previous night.

* * *

><p>Mikey opened his eyes to the illuminated interior of the building. He couldn't remember much from the night before, and he was almost glad of it. He remembered holding on to Stella. If his prosthetic arm had not been stuck in the jaws of the lizard muttation, he may have been able to use its enhanced strength to pull himself through the door, but his right hand was merely human and therefore subject to all the limitations of muscular exertion. Though he diverted all his strength to holding on to Stella, his hands eventually slipped out of her grasp and he was dragged off into the dark.<p>

The door slammed closed, the last of Mikey's hope disappearing behind it. The last thing that Mikey remembered seeing is a blast of sparks flying from his prosthetic arm, illuminating the eerie glow of their yellow eyes and their demonic faces, cloaked in scaly skin, before sheer terror had overwhelmed him and he lost consciousness, fully embracing the inevitable end.

He didn't expect to wake up at all, and was not entirely sure that he still was still alive. Though it was bright, the room was a blur of colors, and Mikey reached up to find that his glasses had fallen off sometime during the struggle. He couldn't see, but hoped beyond hope that the silence pervading the room meant that the lizards had left him alone.

Though he wondered where all this luck had come from, he decided not to waste it. He was as good as blind without his glasses, but if he could find a wall, he reasoned, he could eventually find the door that Stella had gone through. He began to crawl across the floor, hoping that he was heading the right direction.

After a few meters, he stumbled upon one of the scaly bodies of the lizard muttations. Mikey reflexively jumped back in disgust, and sat completely still, hoping that he had not just disturbed one that was sleeping. However, when he noticed that it didn't respond or move, he got closer. Hoping the thing wasn't just playing dead, he kicked it, but nothing happened.

It was completely unresponsive.

Strange, he thought. Not that he was complaining, but there was something peculiar about all of this. Why was he not dead? Had the creatures been distracted? The way the lizard was sprawled out, it almost seemed like the gamemakers had stopped the attack. But if so, why would they have done that? Why would they spare him?

Remembering Joule's words, he wondered if the gamemakers were playing with him or if he really did have a chance in the games. With the information he currently had, he could do nothing but guess at their motives, so he pushed the thoughts aside and instead worked on following Stella, hoping that she hadn't gone too far.

Continuing forward, he found the wall, then, eventually, the door.

It was locked.

He knocked on it, lightly at first, then harder as his courage grew. After a few seconds of silence, he hesitantly cupped his hands and held it to the crack in the door. "Stella? Hello? Are you there?"

He turned his head and flattened his ear against the door. Counting his heartbeats, he closed his eyes and listened to the door as he waited for a response. He would not blame her if she had run and left him, though he hoped against hope that she was still there. Still, he was startled when he heart the click of the lock disengaging, the amplified sound carrying through the solid door and into the ear he had pressed against it.

He stood back and waited as the door slowly creaked open.

* * *

><p>Outside, Amagi decided to finish her breakfast before pursuing the tribute who had created the campfire. She didn't think there was a particular hurry. Tossing the last of the banana peels to the side, she moved stealthily and carefully into the banana grove.<p>

The foliage here was not quite as thick as the jungle had been, but she could still see where someone had made his way through here a couple of times. She also spotted several of the small green lizard muttations that had been killed and tossed to the side. Either their meat was not good enough to eat or the person who had killed them already had enough food.

Making her way through the banana grove, she walked right into one of Jerome's traps.

She saw it only barely in time to lift her foot, which lightly grazed the tripwire. Her forward momentum caused her to trip forward, and she rolled with it, lifting her legs up over the wire as she tumbled. She only hoped that she wasn't blindly rolling into another trap.

* * *

><p>Stella stared over at the main door, faced with a decision that had no right answer. In order to go through the door, she would need to get to that clip, but to get that clip would mean going back out to face the lizard muttations. Staying put would be safer, but all the supplies were also out in the hall.<p>

As she stared at the solid metal door, she heard a light rap on it. Wondering if her ears had deceived her, she slowly approached it, but stopped when she heard something that she never expected to hear again.

"Stella? Hello?", the boy's meek, muffled voice drifted through the crack in the door.

No, she thought. It couldn't be.

Stella had heard stories of muttations that could mock people's voices, and wondered if the gamemakers wer mocking her. Aware that she would eventually have to brave whatever was out there anyway, she figured she might as well get it over with.

Drawing her knives, she slowly turned the lock and pushed the door open.

Expecting to find herself face to face with a lizard muttation, she was understandably surprised to instead find herself face to face with Mikey. She was as shocked as anyone would be to see someone coming back from the dead.

* * *

><p>Jerome made a small fire for himself in the early morning hours and cooked breakfast for himself. The pack he had picked out from the cornucopia had been loaded with plenty of supplies to last him a week easily. However, he soon found that the problem was not surviving, so much as it was just getting through the week.<p>

As the sun rose up, Jerome let his mind wander. He thought of home, of District 11, of his family, and of Samantha. Besides the small lizard attack two nights ago, nothing had happened. With enough supplies, traps set around his area, and a sturdy shelter, Jerome didn't know what else to do.

He once thought that he would enjoy having an unlimited amount of time to just sit and daydream, but now that he had it, he realized how silly that wish was. He thought he would never get tired of daydreaming, but he was wrong. He missed Pines. What he wouldn't give for one of his little brother's annoying questions right about now.

Every once in a while, Jerome got up and checked the traps he had set around the perimeter, but he never seemed to catch anything. That morning, he had seen a group of chirping lizard mutts near the outer perimeter of his area, but they had kept their distance, which didn't bother him all that much. As the day wore on, he worked his way back to his campsite, sat down, and began to daydream again.


	45. Chapter N plus 19

Mikey paused, mid knock, as the door unlocked and swung open. Though he wasn't able to see clearly, he was reasonably sure that he was looking at Stella smiling back at him. The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

Though Stella didn't want to admit it to herself, his loss earlier had broken some part of her that she did not want to acknowledge was there. She had thought that she had kept emotional distance from Joule and Mikey, but something inside her broke when she found herself alone the previous night. Though this was nothing compared to the fear she had that Mikey would blame her for letting the lizard muttations take him.

Hoping that he wouldn't bring it up, she filled the silence by stating the obvious. "You're alive."

Mikey made a show of checking to make sure that his limbs were still attached, then looked back at Stella. "As far as I can tell."

Stella smiled. She was sure that he would be angry at her for simply letting him slip away, but he seemed to be taking it surprisingly well. Still, she found a surprising amount of guilt bubbling its way up, and hastily responded before it had a chance to take root.

"You'll never believe what I've found!"

"No", Mikey responded, shaking his head, laughing. "You'll never believe what _I_ found!"

* * *

><p>Amagi knew that her crashing fall must have been within earshot of the tribute who had started the fire. Sprawled on the ground, she froze and listened for the sound of a tribute approaching, but could only hear the chirps of the birds. Looking back, she saw that the tripwire was hidden quite well, and that encounter could easily have ended much differently.<p>

She stood up and brushed herself off. Looking up over the treetops, she saw that the fire was still going strong and was originating from somewhere just through the trees to her left. She gripped her weapon and slowly, quietly edged forward.

* * *

><p>"Come look at this!", Stella announced excitedly. She pulled Mikey into the room she had spent the night in and pointed out the door she had found.<p>

Mikey squinted up at the label on the doorway. "What does it say?"

Stella looked at him, dumbfounded. "Wait, you can't read? For real?"

"What?" Mikey looked at her, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "No, of course I can read. Just not without my glasses." He pointed to his bare eyes, which looked decidedly smaller than they did behind the thick wire-frame glasses he had been wearing up to this point.

"Oh. Right." Stella had realized that they were missing, but hadn't realized how much of a handicap he was now at without them. "Well it says 'supply bunker'. You know, the place we were going to try to find on the first day? Well it's this way!" She pointed toward the door with the label that he was struggling to read.

Mikey's face lit up at the comment. "No kidding? That's great! Let's do it!" He turned back to the door to the main room. "Hang on, I've got to get my glasses first. They're out there somewhere, but I can't see enough to find them." He turned back to Stella. "Oh! But I've got to show you something first! Come on!" He scurried across the room and flung the door to the main room the rest of the way open. "Look at this!"

For the first time, Stella saw what Mikey had woken up to. She saw her hair clip on the ground just outside the door where she had dropped it, but there was something much more impressive that was holding her attention. The bodies of the three lizard muttations that had attacked Stella and Mikey the night before were laying on the floor of the main room in one big heap. Upon closer inspection, there was no bleeding, no cuts, or any visible reason for how they had been killed, though they were, undoubtedly, dead.

While investigating the lizard's limp, unmoving bodies, she also caught sight of the familiar red wire-frame glasses that had somehow managed to get beneath one of the lizard muttation's bodies.

"Hey! I found them!", she yelled out to Mikey, who was still standing in the doorway.

Stella reached down and picked up the familiar wire frame glasses, but her spirits fell as she got a closer look at them. Some time during the struggle the previous night, the glass had shattered, and now all that remained was the bent wire-frame.

Mikey rushed over to her, almost tripping over one of the lizard's sprawled bodies, and grabbed the distorted wire-frame. Feeling where the empty rings where the glass had once been, he mumbled "I suppose I should have expected as much."

Stella nodded. "What now?"

Mikey looked up sheepishly and responded with a shrug, "I don't know? Maybe they'll have something we can use with those supplies in the bunker?"

Stella was skeptical, but knew that he was right in one respect. There was not really anything they could do about it here. They might as well move on. She grabbed Mikey's arm and directed him back through the door and began to pick the lock on the door marked 'supply bunker'.

* * *

><p>It was well into the afternoon, and Jerome was deep in one of his daydreams. His mind had drifted back home to District 11 and he was reliving the games of hide and seek he used to play with Pines. Jerome never really had to search to find Pines, who always climbed the same tree, though he would always make a big scene of looking for him anyway. He would always know when Pines was making a break for it because the leaves and branches would crunch underfoot as he dropped from the tree and ran for the safe zone. In his imagination, he watched from cover as Pines jumped out of the tree and crashed as he hit the ground and rolled through the leaves.<p>

He snapped out of his trance as he heard the noise. Was that sound just in his head or was it real? He sat up and listened for the sound, but if didn't repeat itself. It was probably one of those small green lizards again, he though, gripping his machete. They had been taunting him from the shadows, though none had come close enough for him to actually attack.

Now fully snapped out of his daydream, he decided that he should probably check his traps just in case. He stood up and lumbered off into the grove, his machete ready to attack any of the green lizards that decided they wanted to try a second time to attack him.

About halfway through his journey around the perimeter, Jerome stopped. In front of him was one of his larger traps that had been sprung.

Something inside of it was moving.

This particular trap was secured by ropes to the banana trees, and was now holding fast as something inside struggled to break free. He couldn't see what the opaque tarpaulin had caught, though whatever it contained was much larger than the small lizard mutts that he had encountered so far.

As he approached, he feared that he might have caught a larger lizard muttation; an older brother of one of the smaller green lizards. As he got closer, he could see that the trap's quarry was quite weighty. It was quite large for a lizard, and it almost looked like...

A heavy feeling fell over Jerome as a thought occurred to him.

It almost looked like... a person.

* * *

><p>Whether it was because the gamemakers wanted her to or because she didn't have lizards breathing down her neck this time, it didn't take Stella nearly as long to unlock the door to the supply bunker as it had for her to unlock the main door the night before. Beyond the doorway was a set of stairs descending into the ground, followed by a long walkway illumiated by flickering purple fluorescent lights along the walls.<p>

Stella had not planned on bringing up the events of the night before, but, standing in the threshold of this new passageway, her guilt forced her to address it. "Listen, about last night, I'm sorry I let you go. I didn't..."

Mikey put a hand on her shoulder, and cut her off mid-sentence. "It's okay. I'm still alive, right? It's not your fault."

Stella began to disagree with him, but Mikey cut her off again. "Look, it's okay. I don't blame you for locking me out. I probably would have done the same thing." Stella's eyes dropped to the floor as Mikey continued. "I mean it's not like you pushed me out there, right?"

Stella started to argue, but then decided it would be wiser if she didn't. Instead, she silently nodded and helped him down the stairs. As the walked down the corridor, she finally responded, "Fine, but I didn't exactly save you either..."

"Yea, well nobody's perfect. I mean, you tried to hold on, but they were too strong. It's okay. It's not like you let just let them drag me away, you know?"

A heavy weight suddenly released in Stella's chest, and slammed into her. The guilt that she could no longer hold down rose out of the depths of her conscious as she realized that she had done almost exactly that. The feeling hit her so hard that she had to stop walking.

She had only felt this crippling feeling once before, and it had been no less gut wrenching as it was in this moment. After the night of the failed train heist, Stella had run until her legs had given out, then had collapsed into the mud in the middle of the streets in the pouring rain. She lay there sobbing, half choking on the watery mud as she pressed her face down into the ground. The peacekeepers would eventually come find her, but she didn't care. She did not want to get up or to even move; she didn't care if she died out there.

The feeling hit her again now, and it took all that she had to not burst into tears in the middle of the softly illuminated underground tunnel. Clutching her stomach, she took several haltering breaths before she regained control of herself.

Mikey, who had been awkwardly watching this from the side, wasn't sure what to do to help, or if he should even do anything. "Hey... are you alright?"

Stella, now breathing evenly, willing the feeling to subside, stood up. "Yea, I'm fine. I'm just sick of these stupid games."

Mikey only nodded in assent and the two continued down the hall until they finally reached the door at the far end. The door was bolted shut, so they removed the bolt and slowly pushed the heavy door open. In the room beyond, the rusty pipes and wires that lined the walls were dimly lit by the same style of flickering violet fluorescent lights. The tile floor turned into concrete, and they headed toward the only obvious way out: a flight of stairs that led to another solid, metal door.

They ascended the small flight of stairs and pulled on it, but they found that it was locked.

"Yea, I already tried that."

The unfamiliar voice sent a chill through both Stella and Mikey as they turned to face the voice. Stella couldn't tell if she was more afraid of career tribute from District 4 or the object she was holding in her hand.

"Oh, and thanks for opening that door, it was locked from the other side." Standing beside the door that Mikey and Stella had just walked through, Cassida watched them eagerly. The shark tooth was missing from her necklace and, in its place, was one of the lizard's long curved claws.


	46. Chapter N plus 20

From his perch in the tree, Berton could tell that there was something wrong with Chayonna. Whether she was acting or simply playing a game with Konstance, there was definitely something off about her. Konstance seemed to be dealing with it well, but Berton could tell that whatever was going on was bothering him as well.

Berton watched as the two careers tore into the food in the pack and, with it, the drugs he had laced them with. His plan worked perfectly on Konstance, though not quite as well on Chayonna, who had only consumed enough of the drug to become slightly delusional. He sat in the tree and waited for her to drift off, but it never happened. He had not wanted to reveal his presence, but fearing that his time may be short, he resorted to Plan B.

Hoping that it would not be a deadly mistake, he called down from the treetops. "Hey, Chayonna!"

Chayonna grabbed her mace and was on her feet almost instantly. "What vile enemy of Loria doth the Fiery Witch send to halt us?"

Berton couldn't decide whether he was terrified of the career tribute's menace or tickled by her ridiculous lingo. Though he was not entirely sure what she meant by the phrase, her battle stance and the fact that she had called him an "enemy" told him that it was not quite time to reveal himself yet. Using the dense leaf coverage of the low forest canopy to hide his location, he called out, "I'm not your enemy!"

The voice echoed throughout the canopy, seeming to come from multiple locations at once. Chayonna gazed around the treetops, but could not discern the source of the voice. "Identify yourself!"

"It's Berton. You know, District 5? Ask Konstance, he will know me." He realized a little too late that Konstance would still be under the effects of the drug and that if she tried to wake him, he would realize that he was more than simply asleep.

Of course, there was nothing he could do about it now.

"If you refer to Hans, I shall wake him and we shall confer about what fate we shall leave you to!"

Chayonna walked over to Konstance and began to shake him, but he wouldn't wake. She shook him more vigorously, but Konstance remained unresponsive. She retreated to the pack and resorted to pouring water over his face, but he remained unconscious.

When even that failed, Chayonna stood up and slowly backed away from Konstance.

After a pause, she addressed Berton again. "I know who you are!" Chayonna pointed an accusatory finger up to the treetops. "The Enchanter! What demonic spell hath you cast upon Hans?"

If this was a game, Berton had no idea how it was played. "The Enchanter?"

"Do not feign ignorance with me, oh great wizard! I know it is you! You have come to dissuade us from continuing our quest!"

Berton felt like he was on the wrong side of an inside joke. "Uh...no?"

Chayonna, however, did not let up. "Behold at thy feet the gage of battle! Emerge from the shadows and fight me with honor!" She was still searching the treeptops for any hint of Berton's hiding spot.

Berton sighed. He wondered if there was any way that this conversation could possibly have gone any worse. He sat back, trying to think about how he should approach this, inadventantly slinging his arm into one of the packs he had stored in the tree.

The pack fell backward, tumbling off the branch.

He grasped for it, but the bag fell out of his reach and tumbled to the ground below. Berton belted out several loud expletives as the bag hit nearly every branch on the way down, alerting Chayonna to his exact location.

"Ah-HA!" Chayonna rushed over to the pack as it slammed into the ground. "The great wizard's bag of magic tricks! Does this hold the source of thy power?" Without waiting for a response, she started digging into the pack.

Berton smacked his palm into his forehead as he tried to figure out a way out of this one. He only looked up when Chayonna let out an exclamation of success. Now what?

Looking down, he saw that after digging through the pack, Chayonna had found the small container holding the rest of the sleeping pills. There was more than enough left in the bag to knock her out, and a plan formed in Berton's head.

Shouting down out of the tree, he played along with Chayonna's delusion. "Oh no! Not my magical.. uh.. supplements! They are the source of my... er... magical power!"

"Ah-HAH!" Chayonna shouted triumphantly. "With these, I shall surpass even your great magical ability!" With that, she opened the container dumped the entire bottle of sleeping pills into her mouth and ate them.

At first, Berton was excited that his planned had actually worked, but it soon became apparent that something was terribly wrong. He assumed that more drugs would simply make her sleep longer, but there was something strange happening to the career tribute below him.

As Chayonna's hands began to tremble, she looked down at them, horrified. "What spell hath you cast upon me, Enchanter?"

Her legs grew weak, and she soon dropped to her hands and knees as the convulsions spread to the rest of her body. Her stomach began to heave, and she vomited up everything she had eaten the day before. Even when there was nothing left, she continued hold her stomach and dry heave.

Berton could do nothing but watch as Chayonna reacted to the medication. Eventually, the heaving stopped, and Chayonna's eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed into the puddle of vomit. He thought the scene was over until he caught the scent of something burning. Looking down at the fire, he saw that Chayonna had collapsed near enough to the flames that her hair was starting to catch fire.

Berton jumped off his branch and slid down the vines as quickly as he could. He ran over to Chayonna and hurriedly dragged her away from the fire. The ends of her pigtails were still sporting red flames, and Berton had to stomp them until they went out. He inspected the rest of her body for burns, but, to his relief, only her hair had been singed. When he was sure that she was okay, he dragged her until she lay beside Konstance.

She was still now, but Berton did not know what to think. He knew that the Capitol medicine was potent, but he wasn't entirely sure of the effects of consuming so much of it at once. He couldn't tell if she was breathing or not, and he held his head to her chest, listening for a heartbeat. For a horrified second, he thought that her heart stopped. Listening closer, however, he heard it, though it was frighteningly weak. A single bead of sweat ran down his forehead as he nervously watched the mess of a girl sleep, knowing that there was nothing he could do but wait and hope that everything would be all right in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, the cannon sounded as her heart finally decided to stop beating.

Berton could not believe how awfully his plan had backfired. He paced back and forth beside the campfire, clearing a pathway where his shuffling feet traced repeatedly across the ground, trying to figure out what he should do.

Konstance was sure to kill him now, there was no doubt about it in his mind. He stopped, staring at the still unconscious Konstance aside Chayonna's body, as he realized that the only solution was to hide the evidence. He saw how much Chayonna had meant to Konstance, and knew that the only way he would be spared is if he didn't know. He winced at the thought, but he knew that it was the only solution.

Fully aware that he would probably have to face the consequences of his actions later, he grabbed Chayonna's wrists and dragged her off into the jungle. When he thought he had gone far enough, he released her, and Chayonna's body flopped to the ground. As it did, Berton saw a brief flash of light and noticed a pendant around Chayonna's neck. As an afterthought, he reached down and yanked the pendant from her neck and stuck it in his pocket. He took one last look at Chayonna before turning and sulked back to the campsite as a hovercraft swooped in behind him to remove Chayonna from the arena.

Far from feeling tired, his guilt and fear spurred him on. He spent most of the rest of the night trying to cleaning up Chayonna's vomit, though he couldn't fully get rid of the acrid odor. He hunted down some of the local wildlife and roasted it over the fire to cover the remainder of the smell. Berton was still in the middle of this task when Konstance had woken up.

Now, as Konstance stared at him menacingly, waiting for an answer, Berton hesitated, unsure of whether or not he should tell the truth. He knew that what happened to Chayonna wasn't really his fault and that he had done everything he had could to save her, but would Konstance see it that way?

Berton started, "Look, last night, after you were asleep..."

"You mean after you drugged me", Konstance corrected, making sure to maintain his glare. He was trying to put the pieces together, but didn't quite have enough of them to do so yet.

Berton paused, then hastily nodded. "Yea, I know, sorry about that. I wanted to make sure that you weren't going to attack me, you know?" Berton laughed nervously, but Konstance wasn't amused. "Ok, look, last night, after I gave you the pack, I was talking to Chayonna and..." Konstance raised both of his eyebrows as Berton mentioned her name.

Berton saw this, and hesitated once more, debating how to proceed. He wanted to tell Konstance what happened, how all he had wanted was for them to fall asleep so that he could approach them safely, and how he had not meant for all this to happen, but he also wanted Konstance's approval and didn't know how the boy would react to the truth.

Instead, he only told part of the truth.

He rubbed his eyes and grimaced as the words came out in one steady breath. "Well it was Cassida. She found us and she was going to kill you, but Chayonna led her away. I was supposed to stay here with you until you woke up, then take you after her." He reached up and scratched his chin as Konstance eyed him with suspicion, trying to read his expression.

Suddenly, Berton remembered Chayonna's pendant. Berton pulled it out and held it up, replying, "She gave me this so that you would believe me."

The two stared at each other for a silent moment. Konstance remained emotionless with his solemn, unreadable stare as he decided what to do about the situation that he now found himself in.

Berton, feeling Konstance's mistrust, appealed once more, "Look, you're going to have to trust me, okay?"

Konstance could tell that Berton was hiding something, but he could also tell that the kid was desperate. He was curious about what had really happened and how much of the Berton's story was accurate, and might not find out if he scared him off. Worried that Berton would try something desperate if he refused, Konstance decided to go along for now. After all, he was still bound to a tree.

Anyway, Chayonna would not have given him the pendant for nothing. If this was true, maybe she was back to acting normal; maybe a bit of sleep was all she needed after all. Now thinking about Chayonna, his solemn demeanor broke into a slight smile. "Okay, let's go find her, then."


	47. Chapter N plus 21

Neither Stella nor Mikey dared to move or speak. Stella's hand was frozen around the door's handle as Cassida began crossing the room. As she approached them, Cassida waved around a long metal rod she was holding. "You know, when Amagi locked me in here, I thought I was going to be trapped in here until I starved to death. It said 'supply bunker', but all they have are these things."

She flipped a trigger on the device she was holding and watched fondly as a steady stream of sparks jumped across the end. "I thought they might be some kind of weapon, but these things don't even kill. It shocks those lizard things, but they only get knocked out for a little bit; they always get back up later. Though I wonder..." She shifted her gaze to Mikey and Stella. "...what it will do to you."

She strutted forward wielding the shock stick, occasionally squeezing the trigger, sending a series of sparks flying with a rapid clicking sound, and laughed maniacally as the two tributes cowered back from her.

Without breaking her gaze from the career, Stella stepped forward and pulled out her knives.

Cassida smirked. "Letting the lady go first! Such a _gentleman!_" She directed the comment past Stella and at Mikey, who was still frozen by the door. "Don't worry, though, you'll get your turn too! You'll just have to..."

Stella lunged forward with her knives, before Cassida could even finish her sentence. She was hoping to catch the career tribute off guard, but Cassida was ready for it. In a swift sweeping motion, she swung the shock stick up and the sparks jumped out as it contacted with Stella's side. Stella felt a physical blow, as if she had just been hit by a giant sledgehammer, and collapsed to the floor. She tried to get up, but she found that Cassida was holding the shock stick to her chest. There was a pause, and Stella got a brief view of Cassida's victorious smirk before she pulled the trigger once more.

Stella screamed as the electricity streamed through her.

She lost control of nearly every muscle as Cassida shoved the shock stick harder into her chest and held down the trigger. The memory of the train station flooded back to her, and she imagined her own face melting into the concrete floor as Cassida held down the trigger.

After a few seconds, Cassida finally released the trigger, and Stella flopped to the cold concrete floor, unable to move any of her limbs. As she lay there, she felt a warm feeling spread over her legs, and she realized with horror that she had just peed all over her uniform. She felt physically spent as she lay on the floor, as if she had just finished a particularly gruelling aerobic workout. Every inch of her body was now resisting any kind of motion, as if someone had set down lead weights on top of her, and it took all of her effort just to remain conscious.

A puddle of drool was beginning to form outside of Stella's slack jaw as Cassida stepped over her and approached Mikey.

"Hey there, sweetie! I like how you stepped out and protected your girl. Oh, wait, except you didn't do that at all." She held her smile as she turned now to face Stella, who was still floored, but was beginning to regain motor control in her fingers.

Cassida yelled over at Stella's collapsed body, "Girl, you can do better than this lazy bum." Without even looking, Cassida extended her shock stick out and struck Mikey square in the chest. He let out a shrill squeal as he went down in a similarly gawky style.

Cassida couldn't help but laugh at the shrill squeak the boy emitted. As Mikey spasmed to the ground, Cassida went into a fit of giggles. She pointed to the boy as he collapsed to the ground, unable to speak through her laughter more than "Did you hear... that noise?... hilarious!" She had to hold on to the railing for support as she doubled over in laughter.

Stella listened to Cassida's giggling fit with disgust. She wanted nothing more than to get back up and have another go at the girl who had just completely embarrassed her. Though she still felt like she was stuck to the ground with a sort of industrial adhesive, testing her arms and legs, Stella found that she was starting to regain motor control in her limbs as well. Cassida had been too busy laughing to notice, and Stella remained motionless, hoping to catch her off guard when she had recovered more.

Cassida's laughter subsided, and she found herself alone in the room with the two unresponsive tributes sprawled on the ground. She looked from one to the other, dismayed. Standing over the two now incapacitated tributes, she looked down at the shock stick in her hand and pouted. "Man, this is boring. You guys are no fun."

Leaving the two tributes to wallow in their paralysis, she started toward the door that she had propped open. Stella tried to spit out an insult that she was almost positive would get censored from the public viewing, but she had not quite regained control of her diaphragm and vocal cords. What actually came out sounded somewhere between a mumble and a wheeze.

Though her outburst was incoherent, Cassida treated it as a greeting from an old friend. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to catch up to my good friend Amagi." She stopped, thinking about her last statement, then amended it. "Actually, I hope we don't see each other again. You guys are really boring."

Mikey, who had not been hit nearly as hard as Stella had been, was nevertheless rolling on the floor, groaning in pain. Cassida looked over him, shaking her head in annoyance. "Shut up, dweeb! Nobody cares about you!"

Before she stepped out the door, Cassida unwrapped a cord that she had tied around the railing much earlier. She turned around, holding the cord in one hand and motioning toward a dark corner with the other. "Oh, hey, before I forget, this is Rex."

Stella shifted her gaze to the dark corner where she saw a lizard muttation that had somehow escaped both her and Mikey's attention earlier. The cord in Cassida's hand led to a slip knot that would release the creature if pulled.

Staring down at the cord in her hand, Cassida continued, "I was actually hoping to save this for Amagi, but I guess you guys will do." Standing in the threshold of the door, she turned to face them again. After a brief pause, she pulled the cord, releasing the lizard mutt. Smiling at the two tributes, she cheerfully waved "Take care of little Rexie for me!"

With that, she reached her shock stick down and zapped the tail end of the mutt. It jumped forward, away from the shock stick, and Cassida dropped the rope that had been holding it before disappearing through the door that Mikey and Stella had unlocked for her.

The door slammed shut behind Cassida and the bolt clicked back into place.

The lizard mutt, now realizing that it had been released, shook off the rope and let out a low snarl before as it stalked toward Stella and Mikey.

* * *

><p>Jerome stood over the sprung trap. Though it was bound tight, there was clearly something inside of it moving. He didn't particularly want to hurt anybody, but he knew that whomever it was would more than likely have no problem hurting him. He once again brought up the jubilation he had the night before when he had realized that he had made it to the final eight.<p>

He drew his machete, thinking that just one stab would bring him one step closer to home. He steeled himself, then brought his machete down, repeatedly hacking away at the mass caught inside the tarp. With each slice, the tarp ripped open more and a wafting fruity smell began wafting out of the ragged tears in the fabric.

He stopped and ripped open the tarp, expecting to find a tribute caught in the trap, and was confused when a large pile of hacked up bananas tumbled out. The fruity smell became more pungent as Jerome threw the tarp to the side, revealing the giant stack of now sliced bananas that had tripped his trap.

Wait, he thought, then why had it been moving?

His question was answered as a small green lizard appeared from inside the trap and jumped up, biting him on the nose. Jerome screamed, yanking the creature off his face. He threw it to the ground in revulsion and began stomping it. The small lizard was crushed under his massive boots, but Jerome stabbed it several additional times simply out of spite. The numbing feeling that Jerome was quite familiar with began spreading across his face. It wasn't nearly as strong as it had been the night before, but it was annoying nonetheless.

He rubbed the sore on his nose, vowing to be more careful in the future. Looking down at the mass of bananas caught in his trap, he wondered how they had all gotten there. He looked up at the trees above him, thinking that maybe they had fallen and accidentally tripped the trap, but these trees still held their fruits. Then why were there so many bananas here?

As he thought about this, a rustling in the bushes to his immediate left caught his attention.

Jerome turned to find himself face to face with Amagi, whose cold stare slowly turned up into a lighthearted grin. The two stared at each other for a second as Jerome realized that she had used his own trap against him, and he had walked right into it.

Clever girl, he thought.

Jerome turned to swing his machete up at her, but she was far too fast for him. In the time that it took for him to bring the machete up, she had already dealt him a lethal blow.

Jerome crashed backward to the ground, Amagi's katana piercing his heart. He stared up at the treetops as a summer breeze rustled the leaves as his heart began to give out. He could almost see Pines smiling down at him from his favorite hiding spot.


	48. Chapter N plus 22

Mikey had never felt such pain in his life. At least the bites from the lizard muttations had been localized, but the shock stick had hit him everywhere at once with a powerful blow. Though Cassida had only hit him once, it was enough to dissuade him from even bothering to try to get up.

He had been too preoccupied with wallowing in his own pain and suffering to hear Cassida's rants, and was completely unaware of the lizard muttation that shared the room with him and Stella. He lay on the floor at the foot of the door groaning, really not caring about anything other than his own discomfort and misery.

However, his eyes snapped open and a sudden rush of adrenaline filled him when he heard the familiar snarl once again.

The lizard muttation shook off the rope that bound it and sniffed the air as it began moving toward the two helpless tributes. Stella tried with all her might to lift up her arms and to stand, but her muscles were sluggish to respond to the signals her brain sent them. She clumsily made her way to her hands and knees, though her arms were still shaky.

The lizard paused as it studied her movement. It seemed to be overly cautious as it approached Stella, and she was plenty grateful for this. Stella's head still felt fuzzy, and she couldn't quite shake the blurriness from her vision as she forced her legs under her. After several attempts, she finally managed to find her feet, though she was having trouble balancing. She swayed precariously back and forth as the lizard approached.

Though it took all of her concentration to remain on her feet, Stella held her ground. Her balance was slowly coming back to her, but it wasn't quite there yet. As the lizard approached, she made several feint stabs into the air to keep it at bay and buy a little more time. With every passing second, Stella could feel her body returning to normal and control being restored, but she wasn't quite there yet.

The lizard moved in quick, jerking motions, bobbing its head as it crossed the room, though it never moved its eyes from Stella. It made several feints of its own, the last of which caused Stella to reflexively swing her knife out at the beast.

The lizard retracted its head and Stella's swing missed, pulling her off balance. She toppled over, and the knife she was holding clattering to the ground. She watched as it bounced off across the floor into the darkness as she crumpled to the ground, defenseless.

Cassida made her way back through the tunnel to the original structure where Mikey, Stella, and Joule had first entered. As Cassida stepped into the main room, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of three floored lizard muttations.

Had those two meek tributes done this? No, she thought, it's not possible. She herself had had trouble fighting even one of them, let alone three. But still...

She looked back briefly, wondering if she should go back and finish the job, when the first cannon sounded.

She smiled with intrigue. It was longer than she thought they would have lasted. Anyway, it was not like they could go anywhere. Cassida herself had checked every nook and corner of the room for an escape vent or duct or something, but had not found one. No, she knew that they were trapped in there, even if they did happen to survive this encounter. She moved on, thinking that she could easily come back for them later.

Or she could just let them starve, she smiled at the thought, either way works fine.

Stepping out of the building and onto the porch, she blinked in the bright sunlight. Though the weather had been overcast and stormy the previous day, it had since cleared up and was now bright and beautiful.

A second cannon sounded throughout the arena, and Cassida smiled with satisfaction as she sat down on the porch where Mikey and Stella had been sitting the day before. Two less things to worry about. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh aroma of wet moss and freshly watered orchids. She smiled, thinking of how nice the gamemakers were for doing all of this for her.

The only thing that would have made it better was if that backstabbing Amagi was here so she could teach her a lesson.

The lizard was on top of Stella now, and she could once again smell its rancid breath. Exhausted from straining against her own muscles and tired of fighting a losing battle, she gave up and let her arms and legs fall limp. Though the lizard muttation snarled menacingly down at her, as if daring her to make a move, its full attention was now on Mikey.

For some reason, it seemed to be far more interested in him. In particular, his prosthetic arm.

The final attack that Stella had accepted as inevitable never came; the lizard had only knocked her over so that it could get to Mikey. Now that she was out of the way, it muttation jumped across the room, clattering onto the ground next to Mikey, and sank its powerful jaws onto his shoulder.

The previous night, the lizards' razor jaws had dug into nothing but plastic and metal as they had torn away at Mikey's arm, but this time, the lizard's jaws clamped onto flesh and bone. Mikey could not even scream as the immense clamping pressure squeezed at his arm and upper chest.

The lizard jerked his head back and severed Mikey's arm off at the shoulder.

Its rows of teeth were made for gripping rather than slicing, and it was not a clean tear. The lizard had to yank at his arm several times, each time flopping Mikey around, before the arm finally ripped off. With each jerk, they could hear the sickening sounds of tendons tearing and bone's snapping. Mikey began to go numb as the creature tore his arm out of its socket, then held the appendage above him.

Stella could not see what was going on.

She could see a thick pool of blood forming beneath both Mikey and the lizard, and had to assume that it was Mikey's. Only when the lizard jerked its head up, and Stella could see Mikey's severed arm in its jaws, still bleeding at the stump, did she know how bad it really was.

The lizard shook Mikey's arm in its jaw before dropping it unceremoniously onto Mikey's limp body. Then it turned its head toward her, fresh blood still dripping from its jaws, and jumped down from Mikey's elevated position.

It let out a victorious shriek, then turned its attention back to Stella.

Cassida was once again bored as she sat out on the porch of the structure. She had never been a good tracker and had been trying to think of a way that she could find Amagi. So far, she had only come up with one plausible option, and even that was a long shot. However, thus far, she had not been able to come up with anything else, so, figuring that it couldn't hurt, she decided to give it a try.

Cassida decided to appeal to the gamemakers.

She stood up on the porch and shouted out in no particular direction, hoping that the gamemakers were paying attention to her at that moment. "Hey guys! I know you want a good fight, right? If you tell me where Amagi is, I'll give you a fight! I'll make sure it's a good show, too! What do you say?"

She cocked her head, expecting a response, and was upset when none came.

Thinking that maybe they simply had not heard her, she shouted out again, asking for a clue to Amagi's location. When an answer still didn't come, she began to get annoyed. Why wouldn't the gamemakers want a fight?

She was distracted from her thoughts by a disturbance in the jungle to her left.

Looking over, she saw that one of the small green lizards had hopped out of the jungle and was now cautiously approaching her. Cassida jumped to her feet, shock stick in hand as the green lizard chirped excitedly at the edge of the woods. Instead of attacking, however, it turned and disappeared into the foliage.

"Yea, you better run", Cassida mumbled as she lowered the shock stick and sat back down on the porch, resuming her brainstorm about how she would find Amagi.

Not five seconds later, the green lizard was back. Jumping closer this time, the lone lizard chirped incessantly at Cassida. The single lizard was not at all threatening to her, but the chirping was beginning to become irritating. Still sitting on the porch, Cassida turned to stare at the creature. Flapping her fingers and thumb at it, she mocked the small green lizard's constant chirping. "Is that really necessary? It's very annoying."

The creature stared at her, then, as if taunting her, cocked it's head before chirping loudly once more. Cassida flipped the shock stick back on and pointed it at the creature. Looking the small green lizard square in the eyes, Cassida warned, "One more chirp out of you, and I'll turn you into barbeque."

As if it understood the threat, the creature fell silent, and turned to hop away. However, after three steps, it turned and let out one more shrill chirp in Cassida's direction.

"That's it! You asked for it!" Cassida jumped up and stalked toward the green lizard, brandishing the shock stick. She jabbed the sparking end of the weapon toward the lizard, but it managed to jump back just far enough to avoid getting shocked. Cassida, unamused, skulked forward, but every time she got closer, the green lizard jumped backward, staying just out of range.

The green lizard bounced off into the jungle, and Cassida chased after it.


	49. Chapter N plus 23

Mikey was going into shock.

His mind did not know what to make of the surreal situation, and he was getting woozy from blood loss. In his delusional state, he thought that his prosthetic arm had simply fallen off and began absentmindedly trying to fit the ragged stump back into his shoulder. The rather pitiful attempt only resulted in an even greater bloody mess. He could not figure out why his arm wasn't snapping back into place as he mashed the bloody stump into the bleeding chest cavity.

As he fumbled with his severed arm, he found himself mesmerized by the series of colored lights that seemed to emanate from beneath the skin. They were such pretty lights, and Mikey stared at them as the blinking lights danced across his forearm. As he stared at the display, somewhere in the back of his mind, a logical part spoke up through the foggy haze.

Why was his severed arm lighting up? What were these lights that he had never seen before?

He suddenly snapped back to reality as if waking from a daydream. Though he was still holding his severed arm in his hand, he was flooded with a new clarity as he now studied the rows of blinking lights. They were no hallucination; the aberrant lights were real.

Though at the time of the first lizard attack, Mikey had been terrified for his life, afterward, he had wondered why they had only ripped into his arm. They easily could have attacked just about anywhere else and it might have been lethal. It was as if they had been targeting only his arm. But why? And why had they all suddenly collapsed afterward?

Having modified the arm himself, he thought he knew it inside and out. But now, looking at the blinking lights, he realized that there was something else there. Something that he did not recognize. Something that the lizard muttations and, the gamemakers by proxy, did not want him to have. He was determined to find out what it was that they were after.

Gritting his teeth, he jammed his hand into one of the many tears that the lizard had created and winced as the skin ripped. Though the arm was no longer attached, as he heard the sickening ripping sound, he felt his stomach drop and nerve impulses seemed to return to him from some phantom limb. His brain resisted the motion, but he finally managed to force himself to continue, slowly worming his fingers beneath the skin of what once had been his left arm. He had to avert his eyes as he did it, rolling his head to instead watch as the lizard bore down on Stella.

Stella's muscle control was better than before, and she scrambled back to her feet as she saw the lizard returning. She didn't have the knives, but she was not going to go down without a fight. If she had to rip the lizard apart limb by limb, then that's what she would do. The lizard waggled its front claws as it pushed forward, and Stella receded into the darkness.

She shuffled her feet as she backed away, but never took her eyes off the lizard mutation. She knew the direction that the knife had clattered and if she could just find it, then she figured that she might just have a chance. At that moment, her heel knocked into the hilt of one of her knives, and Stella smiled. If she could just get to that knife, she thought, but before she could reach down and grab it, the lizard pounced at her.

* * *

><p>Mikey gagged at the sound of his own skin tearing away from the smooth muscle beneath. However, as his fingers reached the source of the flashing lights, he found that there was definitely something embedded in the smooth muscle of his prosthetic arm; Something that he did not immediately recognize.<p>

He could feel a long, smooth body and a single indented button. Though one end was smoothly rounded, when he felt the sharply pointed star on the other end, he immediately recognized what it was. His father must have made a last minute addition to his arm without his knowledge.

* * *

><p>Stella's hands went up reflexively as the lizard pounced at her. The lizard's legs hit her square in the shoulders and she hit the ground hard. Though Cassida had removed the single large claw for her necklace charm, the lizard began digging its other claws into Stella's uniform.<p>

Stella, now gasping for air, reached out for the knife, but couldn't find it on the floor. Desperation taking over, she grabbed the lizard by the ankles and wrestled it to the floor. As the two rolled across the concrete, she could feel a deep pain in her calf, but it didn't stop her. The two struggled for the upper hand, though the fact that each of the lizard's appendages ended in sharp claws gave it a distinct advantage.

Stella's back hit the floor once more, and she felt a sharp pain in her lower back. Reaching down beneath her, she found that she had rolled across the knife that she had dropped earlier.

* * *

><p>As Mikey explored the inside of his severed arm, a memory came flooding back, and all the pieces fell into place.<p>

Ever since he was a kid, Mikey's father would occasionally bring home caged animals as pets, some more exotic than others. He had never really known why his father kept such assortment of pets, or why they never lasted more than a few months each, most disappearing just a few months before the reapings, but he now realized that these animals were not animals at all, but gamemaker muttations. The Capitol had been coercing his father into working with them nearly every year.

Though his father had slowly made his work more mysterious to Mikey, before he was old enough to understand about the games, he had often allowed him to watch him work. On this particular year, his father had several cages of giant black rats, their glowing red eyes seeming to pierce holes in the young Mikey as he stared back at them.

His father knelt down next to him, motioning toward the giant rat that had the boy held in thrall. "Scary, aren't they?"

Without looking up from the rat's gaze, Mikey nodded his head. His trance was only broken when his father handed him a small device. "Why don't you try it this time, Mikey. Here, hit this button."

The device was about the size of a small pen. One side ended in a rounded point, but the other end expanded, culminating in a five pointed star. There was a variety of flashing green and red lights all along the body around a single indented button. Mikey had to use his fingernail to press the button, but as soon as he did, the rat's red eyes went dark and the creature collapsed in its cage.

Mikey stared dumbfounded as his father explained. "Electromagnetic pulse. It resonates with the chip in its brain. The gamemakers have full control of its movements, but in case they get out of control, we can shut them down. We call it the fail-safe. The problem is getting the things reactivated. I haven't figured that one out yet, and, in all honesty, I'm not in much of a hurry to do it, either."

Mikey's father turned to finish his other work, and the memory faded back to reality. Feeling around the device frantically, he finally found the indented button and pressed it.

* * *

><p>Now armed with the knife, Stella used it to fight back against the lizard's thrashing claws. Stella jabbed the knife somewhere into the lizard's upper torso, and the lizard rolled with the blow. Now on the offensive, Stella followed it with several successive slices. The lizard didn't counter, so she attacked again, and again. It took her a few seconds to realize that the lizard wasn't fighting back.<p>

In fact, it wasn't doing anything at all.

She panted heavily as she stood there in the darkness over the motionless lizard. As her heartbeat slowed and she began to realize that the fight was over, she felt kind of silly, wondering how long she had been fighting a dead lizard. More curiously, she didn't really remember dealing a lethal blow to the creature. Sure, she had cut it several times, but those weren't enough to take down even a peacekeeper, and she would know.

She stabbed the lizard once more out of spite, but it was not nearly as satisfying as she thought it would be. More than anything, it was strange. It seemed like the creature had just suddenly decided to die for no particular reason. It was eerily similar to the scene that Mikey had shown her earlier that day, where the lizards had seemed to simply have collapsed in the middle of fighting.

At that moment, a cannon sounded throughout the arena, and she whipped her head over to where the boy now lay still in a surprisingly large pool of blood. She gripped her knife and ran over to him, though she already knew what she was going to find.


	50. Chapter N plus 24

The great electric fence had been ripped down; the metallic towers were bent and cables were strewn across the road where Berton and Konstance emerged from the jungle. Though the fence was apparently now electrified, there was a massive gap in the area where the great lizard had torn it down.

Konstance looked up at the great electric fence, heedful of his own intuitions. Not just of the dangers beyond the fence, but of the strange and almost forceful conversations that Berton had been initiating. Berton seemed to be nervous about more than just the fact that he was allied with a career tribute. However, he decided to just let Berton do his thing and not to worry about it too much. He was sure that if it really was something important, it would make itself evident in time.

"So she went this way?", Konstance looked to Berton now.

Berton, who was looking up at the electric fence in awe, took a moment before speaking. When he did, he was still staring up at the great structure. "That's right."

Konstance silently nodded, and made his way forward, making sure to stay clear of the strewn cables. Berton, who had come back to his senses as Konstance advanced, caught up to him and began another of his forced conversations. "Dude, you should get see what your hair looks like right now! You've got this curly 'fro going on. Like, it's crazy." Berton framed his hands around his head, imitating the ridiculously enlarged mess of black curls that Konstance's hair had become in only three days in the arena.

"Yea, it does that", Konstance remarked without any real interest.

Berton was midway through another mocking remark about the wild hair, when he was interrupted by a cannon blast. The sound put a new sense of urgency into Konstance, and he picked up his pace.

"Hang on! Wait up!", Berton complained as he trailed behind, but Konstance wasn't really listening anymore. He jumped through the gap between the bent metallic supports and sped off into the jungle beyond the fence, intent only on finding Chayonna before Cassida did.

* * *

><p>Stella had seen people shot and stabbed before, but she had never seen anything like the horrific scene before her now. In his right hand, Mikey was holding the arm that had been twisted, then ripped off, the ragged pieces of flesh stained a deep shade of red from the blood still gushing out of the limb. Shocked by the sight, she jumped back as Mikey inhaled a single sharp breath.<p>

She had initially been afraid that he was dead, but, now that she could see what the lizard had done to him, she almost pitied him for still being alive. Even in the darkness, Mikey was eerily pale. His blue lips were quivering as he took quick, shallow breaths. Between gasping breaths, Mikey mumbled something that Stella couldn't quite discern and pointed to the arm that the lizard had ripped off.

She awkwardly sat beside him, unsure of what she could possibly do. She couldn't exactly tell him that it was going to be fine or that he was going to be okay; even the best liar in the world couldn't sell that one. Her knife in her left hand, she debated going ahead and ending the clear suffering that Mikey was clearly suffering, but there was nothing that she could do at this point that the lizard had not already done.

Mikey mumbled the words again, hardly louder than a whisper. Though Stella leaned down and turned her ear toward him, the words were still barely audible

"... arm... important... take... "

Stella cringed at the words, her disgust evident. Of course his arm was important, but it's not like she could do anything about reattaching it. She certainly didn't want to drag her ally's torn appendage with her around the arena.

Mikey shook his head again, and pointed to his arm once more. "...deactivate... muttations..." With his last bit of strength, Mikey grabbed Stella's wrist and brought her knife hand down in a stabbing motion, the blade sinking into the prosthetic arm. As it did, Mikey's grip loosened and his arm flopped down to the side.

"What?" Stella now focused on Mikey, desperately looking for something, anything to help explain what he was trying to say, but he had stopped moving. The only response Stella received was a cannon blast, signifying that his death had finally come.

She looked down at the prosthetic arm in her hand and the knife that was still stuck into it, wondering what he had been trying to tell her.

Stella's heart jumped as there was a sudden squeal of metal above her. Looking up for the source of the sound, she was blinded by the sudden influx of sunlight as the roof above her peeled open. Squinting into the glaring daylight, she could barely make out the outline of a hovercraft as it dropped a claw down into the building to retrieve Mikey's body.

Stella scrambled backward until she hit a wall, and watched as the claw grasped Mikey's limp body and lifted it out. As the claw receded, the metal ceiling squealed once more as the roof sealed itself.

All Stella could see were bright flashing stars in her eyes as she blinked in the sudden darkness.

* * *

><p>When another cannon sounded throughout the arena, Konstance stopped in his tracks. Berton was about to comment on how few tributes there were left, which probably would not have gone well with Konstance, who was still intent of finding Chayonna, but was thankfully interrupted by a sudden squeal of metallic scraping coming from somewhere to their right. Both boys had to put their hands to their ears until the piercing sound stopped.<p>

In the same direction, they saw a hovercraft swoop in and begin lowering a claw to retrieve the body of the tribute who had just died.

Konstance suddenly looked over at Berton urgently. "Is that the way that Chayonna went?"

Sensing the sudden change in Konstance's now gravely serious voice, Berton instinctively nodded. "That's right."

Konstance didn't wait for another response before turning on his heels and taking off in the direction of the hovercraft, yelling Chayonna's name. He didn't care if Cassida heard him. In fact, hoped that Cassida heard him as he raced through the forest intent on returning the favor to the girl that once saved his life.

As Berton trailed behind him, he racked his brain, trying to work out all the details of the once little white lie that was steadily becoming more complex and trying to figure out how he was going to play this one.

* * *

><p>Cassida was too far away to hear Konstance scream for Chayonna, and she was too focused on following a small green lizard to let it bother her even if she had been. As the little green lizard led Cassida deep into the jungle, it would stop occasionally and look back to make sure that she was still following, then it would hop farther forward through the undergrowth. Somewhere along the way, Cassida had stopped trying to shock the thing and, her curiosity getting the better of her, instead decided just to follow it as it led her through the jungle.<p>

The game was somewhat amusing to Cassida. Though she remained wary that she might be walking right into a gamemaker trap, she welcomed the exciting change of pace. Anyway, she didn't really believe that there was anything out here that could hurt her. After all, she had shaken off the giant lizard out in the meadow like it was nothing and had come away unharmed.

At least that's how she chose to remember it.

All of a sudden, the lizard that she had been following jumped down a hole and disappeared. Cassida, who had been following the lizard for the better part of an hour, was understandably confused about why the thing had led her here. She ran up to where the lizard disappeared and brushed the herbaceous greens and leaves aside, uncovering a small hole in the ground. Though its color allowed it to blend in with the ground around it, it was clearly out of place, and she leaned down to inspect it.

The opening was just large enough for her hand to fit into it, so she reached down into the hole, feeling inside. The hole was one end of a perfectly round tube made of smooth concrete, though it didn't seem to end. She reached farther down inside the tube, which stretched underground, down into the arena, but still felt nothing.

She retracted her arm and sat back, looking at the strange opening curiously. She might have stayed and studied it some more, but the sound someone rifling through a pack nearby caught her attention.

Her eyes grew wide, and a delightful grin spread across her face. She uttered a silent thanks to the gamemakers as she finally understood where the small green lizard had been leading her. Without hesitation, she gripped her shock stick and stepped out into the small clearing.

Amagi, who was in the middle of searching through Jerome's stuff, looked up in surprise.


	51. Chapter N plus 25

Amagi stopped rifling through Jerome's things and looked up to face the new, unexpected threat.

Cassida could not contain her jubilation as she stepped out into the small clearing. "Oh, would you look at that? Amagi! Boy am I glad to see you! That sure was some bad luck when that door accidentally closed, right?"

Amagi, not fooled for a second by Cassida's warm greeting, grabbed her katana and assumed a defensive stance. In her training, she had learned about nearly a thousand weapons, though her trainer had warned her that in the history of human culture, nothing had been so varied or widespread as had weapons. As her trainer had put it, if our past cultures had put as much time and energy into growing food that they did into how better to kill their fellow man, the term "hunger" would have long ago become obsolete.

There was no way to predict what kind of weapons would be present in any given year, so she had been taught blanket strategies; strategies to employ given a generic weapon design. Thus, when she did not immediately recognize Cassida's weapon, she noted that the long metallic rod was similar to a pike or halberd, and she modified her technique and strategy to deal with this type of weapon. As Cassida approached, she readied her katana to parry the rod and to get in close quarters, where this type of weapon was generally less effective.

As Cassida strutted across the small clearing, she continued, "I suppose you couldn't hear me when I was _yelling at you to open the door!_" She screamed the last bit at Amagi, her warm demeanor now settling into cold rage. She glared at Amagi, her face wrinkling in anger. "Good thing I found a way out, huh? Probably would've starved in there or something."

Amagi didn't waste any energy with replying, and slowly modified her position to her advantage, watching Cassida's movements carefully. Amagi had been trained well and knew that in this situation, the best offense was to wait until the opponent attacked, parry it, then step in to deal the lethal blow.

Unfortunately, Cassida seemed more interested in taunting Amagi than initiating an attack.

Without waiting for a response from Amagi, Cassida kept at it, this time, mocking Amagi in a high falsetto. "I dare you to go in there! I bet you're afraid of the dark!" Cassida once again refocused on Amagi. "I bet you thought that _thing_ was going to take care of me. Well what do you think of _this?_"

Without compromising her offensive stance, Cassida reached down and held up the necklace that now sported the long, curved lizard claw. "If I can deal with that monster, I can certainly handle you. Maybe I'll even put some of _your_ teeth on my necklace when I'm done with you."

Amagi, choosing not to get intimidated by Cassia's words, instead watched her approach and appraised her technique. She could see that Cassida's left leg trailed behind her as she brandished her shock stick, which was a unique trait to people trained in District 4, but was effective nonetheless. Amagi gripped her katana, making sure to step toward Cassida's less dominant side, and the two circled each other, looking for an opening to attack.

In that moment, Cassida jabbed the shock stick forward, and Amagi got her chance.

As Cassida lunged, Amagi could already see the next three steps in her mind. Years of training had ingrained these steps into muscle memory, and she instinctively knew what to do. She would parry the weapon, step to Cassida's less dominant side, then sweep her katana either across her lower thigh or up beneath the ribcage and into the heart.

Mind clear of emotion, she proceeded to follow the steps that her trainer had burned into her mind. Almost percieving the events in slow motion, Amagi stepped to Cassida's left and swung her katana up to meet the shock stick.

It was a clean hit, and Amagi could feel the momentum throwing Cassida off as she took a step in. As Cassida wobbled, trying to regain her balance, Amagi could see her opening, and moved to take advantage of it.

Then Cassida pulled the trigger.

Violet sparks flew out of the shock stick, and ran down the giant metal conductor Amagi was wielding, pinning her to the spot. Amagi tried to release the weapon, but found that her hand would not respond to the signals her brain sent to it. She could feel the electric current flowing through the right arm and down her right leg, but could do nothing about it.

The whole thing lasted less than two seconds, though Amagi felt like she had been trapped there for hours. As the force finally released her, Amagi felt like Cassida had slammed her into a brick wall, and she gratefully collapsed to the ground.

The stars slowly receded from Stella's eyes, and she could see the faint outlines of pipes and wires that lined the walls as her eyes once again adjusted to the dark. She was still dazed as she held the remains of Mikey's arm. The whole thing had happened so fast, and she was only now starting to put the pieces together.

For some reason, the lizard muttation had simply collapsed, and Mikey had said something about his arm being important. Something about deactivating the muttations. She looked down at the mechanical arm curiously. She had assumed that he had just been delusional, but was there really something to what he had said?

Electronics were definitely not her strong suit, but if this thing could shut down the muttations, it was worth at least trying to figure out. She yanked the knife out and stared at it, recalling how Mikey had pulled her wrist down to stab the arm.

Was that the trick?

Staring at the severed arm, she figured there was no harm in trying. It's not like Mikey would care.

Unsure of exactly where to start, she gritted her teeth, pulled the knife back, and sliced the arm open. She knew how crazy she must look to people back in her district, but never really was one to care about her reputation. Her uniform and her hands were stained a deep red as the severed arm once again began to gush blood everywhere.

She tore the thing apart, exposing muscles, nerves, and wires alike, tossing aside pieces of metal and bone that she didn't think looked important. She sliced the arm apart and laid the pieces down in front of her, though she couldn't find anything that she thought would be useful. Just as she was about to give up, she heard the sound of metal sliding across the handle of the door.

Someone had removed the object that was wedging it shut, and Stella looked up as the heavy metal door began to creak open.

Berton chased after Konstance, who was yelling Chayonna's name as he sprinted through the jungle toward the now receding hovercraft. The career tribute may have trained enough to keep this pace up, but Berton was struggling just to keep up.

Despite this, Konstance continued sprinting, ignoring the branches that lashed him in the face and the roots that seemed to jump up and grab his ankles. He only had Chayonna on his mind, and was determined to find her.

When he finally crashed through the last stand of bushed and found the door labeled "Supply Bunker 01" that seemed somewhat out of place in the jungle setting, he knew that he had found what he was looking for, immediately recognizing Amagi's katana bracing the door.

The last he had seen of them, Amagi and Cassida had been fighting together against the lizard muttation. They must still be working as a team, and Chayonna had led them both away. She must have saved his life, he realizd.

Looking at the door, he noticed that the katana was wedged in such a way that the door was stuck shut. In his mind, he put the pieces together. She must have led them here, then they must have locked her in there. He pulled the katana from the door and handed it to Berton, who was still panting after his short sprint through the jungle.

Konstance pulled the door open, not entirely sure what he was going to see. He half expected either Cassida or Amagi to jump out at him as soon as he opened the door, but neither Konstance nor Berton would ever have expected the sight before them.

The two boys stared down in horror at the figure below them, painted red with blood. She was weilding a knife as she finished butchering some poor boy's limb, which was now sliced to pieces and arranged into rows before her.

Stella squinted up at them, shielding her eyes from the light that poured in through the open door.

Berton commented first, fitting words between gasping pants. "What.. the..."

Stella just blinked up at them in confusion, and Konstance stepped forward. He expertly whipped his sais from his belt, and held them up defensively. "I'm sorry, are we interrupting something?"

Stella stood now, her uniform still dripping in blood, as the dark figure approached her. Konstance didn't know what was going on and he wanted some answers, no matter what it took. He could see that her sight was hindered by the sudden light and seized the advantage. He jumped down the rest of the stairs and rushed Stella, who blindly jabbed her knife at the interloper. Konstance easily blocked the knife and swung his other fist up, solidly connecting with Stella's jaw.

Stella saw a blast of stars as her brain rattled around her skull, before unconsciousness swept over her like a dark blanket.


	52. Chapter N plus 26

Amagi, still dazed by the blow caused by the shock stick, watched as Cassida approached, then stood over her.

"All that fancy academy training, and you _still_ didn't see that one coming, did you?" Cassida laughed maniacally, then grabbed Amagi by the collar and dragged her off toward Jerome's old campsite. Amagi tried to resist, but the weapon Cassida was holding had done something strange to her body. She felt like every muscle in her entire right side had been bruised at the same time.

Pain radiated throughout her body as Cassida dragged her along. Though they ached badly, Amagi decided that she would have to ignore the pain and lash out, though as she came to this conclusion, she quite unexpectedly found herself underwater.

Cassida had dragged her to Jerome's watering hole, and was now holding her under.

Forgetting about her body's ache, Amagi now faced a more urgent problem. She had lost most of her air during the initial shock of submersion, and her lungs were begging for air as she struggled against Cassida's hold.

Gripping her by the roots of her dark hair, Cassida yanked Amagi's head up to the surface briefly, and Amagi gasped for air.

"Oh, what? Are you _afraid_ of a little water?" Her sharp words pierced Amagi as Cassida mocked the taunt that Amagi had made earlier in order to trap her in the supply bunker.

When she didn't respond, Cassida dunked Amagi back under, this time, holding her there.

Amagi's lungs screamed for air as she lashed out, scratching at her captor's arm, but Cassida held tight. Amagi held out against her lungs' instinctive need for as long as she could, but they finally forced to her to inhale. She breathed in a lung-full of the water and found it to be surprisingly pleasant. Her lungs now full of liquid, though her body felt strangely heavy, Amagi no longer felt the need to struggle, to fight for air. She felt like she belonged here on the bottom of this shallow pond. This was her home. This is where she was meant to be.

Amagi allowed her eyes to close as she accepted her fate.

* * *

><p>"Where is she?"<p>

The loud voice boomed through Stella's head, and it took her a moment to realize that the voice was real. Her head was pounding, and the bright light of the summer afternoon sun shining at her through a break in the trees did not help at all. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. In front of her, scowling down at her under a nest of absolutely wild hair, she recognized the dominant figure of Konstance Lowe as one of the career tributes that had watched as Mikey beat up Flash.

As Stella came to her senses, she thrashed about, but found that her hands and feet were bound.

Konstance smiled. He knew exactly what she was feeling, having woken up to the same predicament just a few hours earlier. Konstance watched as Stella struggled, then, upon realizing that resisting was not going to get her anywhere, turned her attention back to him and snarled, "Whatever you want, you're not going to get it."

Konstance narrowed his eyes and asked Stella, in slow, deliberate succession, "Where is she? Where did she go?" Then, after a pause, "Did you kill her?"

Though she had never been bound and interrogated before, Stella had known enough instances of friends being rounded up by peacekeepers, and knew how these things always ended. "Why should I tell you anything? You're just going to kill me after."

Konstance nodded and stood back up, though he neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. Berton, who had been a ways off, tinkering with some of the stuff they had salvaged from the supply bunker, took the moment to jump in with his opinion. "See? I told you she wasn't going to...", but Konstance cut in.

"Shut up. You're not helping." Konstance dismissed him with a wave, not breaking eye contact with Stella.

Somewhat hurt that Konstance had dismissed him so quickly without even letting him finish his statement, Berton jumped in again, this time addressing Stella. "Oh, come on. He just wants to know where she went. Why would he want to kill you?"

Konstance and Stella both turned their gaze toward him, bearing the same exasperated expression, as if asking if he was being serious with that question. Berton stared back at them quizzically for a moment, then suddenly remembered where he was. "Oh... right... Hunger Games. Gotcha."

For the first time, Stella looked over past Konstance to Berton, who was sitting behind him, sifting through the broken parts of Mikey's arm. Though she had recognized the career, she didn't immediately recognize the smaller, red-haired acne laden tribute. "Hey, what are you doing? Be careful with that!"

Berton gave Konstance a smug smile, then turned his attention back to the broken bits of machinery that lay before him. He held up one part in particular, which was oblong, though one end was vaguely star-shaped. "I told you it was important." Inspecting the object, he added, "This one's got some kind of charge in it. I don't know what it does, but it's got enough energy stored to blow us all up."

"Oh," Konstance swooped in on Stella now. Is that so? Do you mind telling us what you were doing in there? At first, when I saw you mangling up your ally there, I didn't really want to know." Konstance furrowed his brow. "But, you know what? I think I've changed my mind. I think I do want to know."

Konstance leaned in to Stella until their faces were nearly touching. "And you're going to tell me."

Stella, seemingly unfazed, raised a single eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

Konstance smiled, expecting a response like that. "You see those tracks in the sand there?" As he said this, he pointed toward a patch of sand which bore several three-toed footprints. "I don't know if you've seen them yet or not, but at night, hundreds of tiny green lizards roam this part of the jungle. They're just waiting to stumble upon a midnight snack, and you, my dear, are right in their path. If you tell me what I want to know, I'll let you go. Otherwise..." Konstance shifted his gaze suggestively to the sun, which was now shining through well below the tree line. As Stella got the idea, he turned back to face her. "Your choice."

As Konstance stared her down, Stella weighed her options.

She was fairly sure that the boy wasn't bluffing, but she also knew what happened to those who finally told their captors what they wanted to know. It was a dilemma, for sure, but all her life, she had managed to find her way out of situations like these. She was sure that she would figure something out, she just needed to wait for the right opportunity to present itself.

* * *

><p>Amagi opened her eyes to find Cassida pounding rhythmically on her chest. Before she could realize what was happening, she saw Cassida lean over and kiss her.<p>

This startling turn of events caused Amagi to wriggle away, and Cassida pulled back.

Amagi had no time to think about what had just happened, because as soon as had she regained consciousness, she began to cough violently. She felt something surging up from her stomach, and rolled over just in time to vomit. Her stomach lurched several times, and each time she vomited up all the water that had been trapped inside her.

Her chest now cramping from her heaves, Amagi rolled over onto her back, panting from exertion. Looking up, she saw Cassida towering over her, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Man, that was close. You almost died on me there. That would have been a shame."

Amagi could hear the soft whirring sound as Cassida charged up the shock stick.

Cassida crouched down and brought her face up next to Amagi's, her voice dropping to a low growl as a sinister smile spread across her face. "I'm not through with you yet."


	53. Chapter N plus 27

Appropos of nothing, Konstance smiled. He knew that it likely destroyed his intimidating facade, but he couldn't help it. The feeling had welled up inside of him from some unknown region inside himself, and was now intent on making itself known.

All of a sudden, the situation just seemed so ridiculous. Here they were, three teenagers in the woods, one of which was tied to a tree. And for what?

His smile giving way to a soft chuckle, Konstance shrugged at Stella's stubbornness. "You know what? If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine. You can just stay right there; it doesn't really matter to me one way or the other."

Stella scowled in confusion. In the time since she had awoken and found herself tied to the tree, she had imagined a hundred different ways that the career tribute would torture her to force answers out of her, but she hadn't expected this. "What?"

Konstance stood and matter-of-factly stated, "See, here's the thing: I know that Chayonna can follow a smoke trail. I also know that she's expecting us to be in this general area. Therefore, I conclude that I don't really need you help to find her. The offer was simply a courtesy."

Stella suspected that he was bluffing in some respect, though she kept her suspicions to herself.

Konstance's mood had lightened considerably. He could see the finish line ahead, and it calmed him. Not that he particularly wanted to die, but whether or not he did, he knew that this would all be over soon. Looking back at Stella, he asked, "Do you want some beef stew?"

Berton began to object, but Konstance just shooed him away. "Come on, Beth. We've got plenty of food left, and this thing is almost over. It'd be a shame to waste it."

"Berton." Berton stated dryly. "It's _Berton_."

"Yea...", Konstance nodded, unsure of why he had brought it up. "I know your name."

Berton protested, "Well you just called me 'Beth', so..."

"I did?" Konstance's face wrinkled in concern. He didn't remember doing that at all. At least he didn't think that he had done that. "When?"

"Just now! You called me 'Beth'", Berton protested.

Thinking back, Konstance honestly couldn't remember exactly what he had just said, and, though it somewhat bothered him, he decided to let it go. "Whatever. You know what I mean. That's not the point."

He turned from Berton and began digging a small fire pit.

"Yea, whatever", Berton sulked. He dragged a stick in the dirt for a moment, then spoke up as a thought occurred to him. "Hey, isn't a fire going to attract whoever else is out there?"

Konstance scoffed, "Yea, probably. It doesn't really matter now, though, does it? This thing is almost over anyway. Let them come; let's get this over with, however it will be." He pulled his sais out of his waistband and twirled them through the air. They caught the red glow of the setting sun as he steadied them in his grip. Regarding his drawn sais, he finished, "I think I'm ready for this thing to finally end."

With that, he tucked the sais away and knelt down, gathered a small pile of brush, then began sparking flint and steel onto it. As he labored to build a fire, he lectured Berton.

"Here's the thing. Best case scenario is we kill little miss six here", he looked up at Berton, and motioned toward Stella with a small twig before placing it on the pile of tinder. Stella interrupted with a crude remark, but Konstance dismissed it. Returning his attention to the pile of tinder, he continued, "Then, let's say we manage to somehow find Chayonna, and hunt down Cassida, Amagi, Jerome, or whoever else is left. Let's say that's the case- which it probably won't be- what do you plan on doing then, when it's just the three of us left? Draw straws?"

Berton was glad that Konstance had been looking down or he might have seen him reflexively nod in agreement. However, he realized that the question was somewhat rhetorical and caught himself just in time, as Konstance looked up from the small crackling flame that he had just brought to life.

Konstance shook another twig at Berton, the glowing red tip leaving a trailing orange hue in its wake. "Tell me something, and be honest with me here. Do you truly realize how close the end of your life is, or are you still in denial?"

Berton wasn't sure whether he was supposed to agree or not, so he sat perfectly still.

Konstance sighed heavily. "In twenty-four hours, we are all going to be dead. Our lives will be over. Do you understand that? Do you _really_ understand that? Dead."

The cannon sound that followed seemed to accentuate the statement.

A silence followed that even Stella didn't break. She was familiar enough with death, but it never really hit her until this moment just how serious her situation was. She had always been lucky enough to escape detection or otherwise able to weasel her way out of situations, but this time, that wasn't an option.

Her plan had always been to run, to only fight when she had to, but she couldn't here. The skill that she had always relied on to survive had always pulled through for her, but in this place, it could only prolong the inevitable. Maybe she could sneak away from Jonah or the lizard mutts, but there simply was no escaping the arena.

She snapped out of her thoughts as Berton stated what was on everyone's mind.

"I guess that means we're down to...uh..." His gaze drifted upward and his nose scrunched as he silently counted out on his fingers. "... four left? I think." He looked back down at Konstance. "Wait, so who _is_ left?"

Konstance absentmindedly poked at the fire with a stick. "Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter all that much. Dark's coming, and we'll find out soon enough."

He made a great show of scanning the treeline to the west, then turned his attention to Stella. "Tell you what. I don't particularly want to kill you, so if you want to tell us why you think that thingy over there is so important, my offer still stands." Pointing to the horizon, he finished, "but as soon as that sun falls below the horizon, we're out of here and you'll be on your own."


End file.
